


Let's Get Weird (Boom)

by Semi_Weird_Shipper



Series: Weirdo's Kids Movie Stories [3]
Category: Spies in Disguise
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Aftermath of Violence, Age Difference, Angst, Denial, Denial of Feelings, Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Major Character Injury, Multi-story fic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Ratings and tags vary, Romance, Sex Positions, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 11:28:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21968590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semi_Weird_Shipper/pseuds/Semi_Weird_Shipper
Summary: Gosh DANG-IT, I've never been so freakin IN LOVE with a movie before! And I am. I have been writhing around in my seat for months to see Spies in Disguise, and now that I have, I'm going to ship these dorks until my fingers bleed. I'll probably be the only one shipping this, but I honestly don't care. I'm writing it and putting it out there anyway.
Relationships: Lance Sterling/Tristan McFord, Lance Sterling/Walter Beckett, Walter Beckett/Tristan McFord
Series: Weirdo's Kids Movie Stories [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1744735
Comments: 177
Kudos: 582





	1. Truth Dust (Rated G)

**Author's Note:**

> I've never shipped a pair so hard before I even seen the movie, so it's obvious that I'm bananas for this pairing. It was a great Christmas gift, and I'm happy to be on the boat!
> 
> I'll probably make this fic with chapters that are each a different story, but still around Walter and Lance. Maybe even Walter and Killian because, hey, its kind of intimidating and I love angst. Tags and ratings WILL CHANGE so please watch out. I'll make sure to title each chapter as such. I hope you all enjoy reading and have a great rest of your Christmas!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: When truth dust blows up in Lance's face, of course he's gonna instantly blurt the truth about the first person he sees. *Cough* Walter *cough, cough*
> 
> RATING: GENERAL.

Lance pretended to tighten the smooth, stylish bow on his chest as he stared at the reflection of Walter through the shiny surface of the mirror in front of him, completely ignoring the way his fingers stretched the material until it slipped more to one side than the other. He didn't care though. His eyes were half lidded but felt wide open as they watched the young scientist fiddle with some new gadget, a small smile of admiration threatening to tug at his lips. Walter was sitting on his knees on the floor, shifting his stance from time to time as he tinkered with the toy gun like device in front of him, sticking his tongue out for emphasis on his work. Some times he would pause and mutter something scientific to Lovie about his project and continue to make changes and tamper.

It was a sight that put a silent, perfectly undefined warmth in the famous spy's heart. Lance could look at that wonderfully innocent smile all day, get lost in the scientific nonsense Walter always battered on about, drink in his sweet, caring voice, and invest in all the silly yet amazing things he came up with. Every day that they split up to go home after hours of progress and fails, Lance felt a stab of some sort of affliction inside his chest and he hesitated turning his back on the smaller man. He wanted to just tell him to come home with him, to stay and talk, to be together because he didn't want Walter to get hurt. Every second he was out of his sight hurt. It hurt for long years that were only mere minutes.

There was no denying that he had feelings for him. Lance admitted deep down in the stubborn needle nest of safety his instincts had created that what he felt was genuine and true and dangerous. He loved Walter. He wanted- _needed_ Walter safe. He wanted to be with him all the time. And Lance had never wanted anything more... But basic gut instincts, logical facts, denial and fear kept him from advancing any further than friendship. Just Walter being in his presence alone was enough to tear him apart. One; he wanted him to be close to him for forever. And two; he wanted him away so he could be safe.

There was never any win in a battle like this.

"Hey Lance, wanna see my new Kite Ray?" Asked the ever so excited voice of the young scientist as he stood up and pranced over to the spy.

"Sure thing," Lance turned away from the mirror and glanced down at the scientist with more eagerness than he meant to show. "Wait a minute... This isn't gonna turn me into another sticky fly trap thing again, is it?"

"What?" Walter blushed and looked away in embarrassment as he stammered at the remembrance, "Oh- no, no. That was the stick enhancer shampoo- I uhh... I didn't mean to leave it in the shower, I..."

A look at the bemused spy put him back on gear with the real subject.

" _Anyway!_ This won't make you stick to the toilet again- I promise," Walter waved his free hand and gestured happily to the device he held, "So I was studying the hypnic jerk humans first experience when they begin to fall from tall heights and found out that it released the same endorphins as the physiological functions of the kitty glitter giving off an analgesic affect except this has nothing to do with the brain, but rather... the organs-"

"You see, when humans first begin to descend, their organs have a tendency to push backwards in their body by earth's gravitational pull. Velocity and acceleration cause a sinking feeling that triggers the endorphins in the brain and make people feel light headed or dizzy, so I put together this little device and - BOOM - Kite Ray generator complete!"

Lance couldn't help but to throw on an impressed smile as he looked from the safety weapon to the kind scientist. "Sounds like a kick villain butt keeper to me," He inquired and took a step forward, lifting his arms out, "Why not go ahead and give it a try on me? See how high I get."

Instead of being ecstatic with excitement like he used to, Walter simply tilted his goggles up and stared warmly at the spy, appreciating all the trust and inspiration he gave him with each and every passing day. Lance's smile softened to match the scientists' as he thought about how absolutely beautiful he looked, how wonderful and amazing he was. He would die or turn into a lint trap for him any day.

"Here we go," Walter took a step back and lifted up the toy gun, readjusting his goggles back over his eyes, "Accelerating kite mode in three... Two... One... Boom!"

What looked to be transparent soundwaves rushed past and around the spy who grunted at the sudden impact of pressure surrounding him. He clutched his stomach in what looked to be pain for a split second before throwing his arms out and laughing hyperly in excitement as intense waves of lifted gravity moved through him. It started as a strange yet crazy internal tickle in the entire of his stomach and spread everywhere else making him feel like he was falling at a quick but slowly measured pace. It was almost like the feeling you get when taking off in a super fast car or riding down a high slope in an amusement ride.

"Wow, it worked! It really worked! Did you see that, Lovie?" Walter pointed to the spy multiple times before clutching his head and swinging around in an overjoyed circle, "This means now we can manipulate people for even longer than the kitty glitter! Their immune systems won't know what hit them. Literally-ha! Hey Lance, how do you feel?"

Lance, still with his arms lifted out and a dumb, satisfied look on his face, laughed again and answered in a groggy voice, "Hmhmm, like I jumped outta'n airplane."

"Really? That's great!" Walter began to note down all the reactions of the spy, gazing up and down at him as he studied his results. "Do you feel good?"

"I'm feelin' amazing right now." Lance laughed again and gazed down at the young scientist, "I love it when you analyze me after trying out one of your weird inventions."

Walter paused his notes and looked up at the spy, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink at his words. Lance was looking at him in this satisfied, gentle way that seemed particularly familiar and yet very unbelievable. He didn't want to disappoint himself, so he simply brushed it off as dysfunctional wave linking and continued his notes.

"Nah, keep them pretty things back on me," Lance mumbled, causing Walter's eyes to snap back up in surprise, "I love looking at your eyes."

"Lance..." Walter gasped, wondering what could be triggering such a reaction. Was it the side effects or dizziness complication? Could he be hallucinating? Walter found that instead of jotting down the important questions he should be, he stepped forward and asked, "Do you really mean that?"

"Baby, of course I mean that. I love you more than anything in the whole wide world. Why wouldn't I mean that?" Lance admitted lazily, still looking down at the scientist with that happy, lustful expression on his face.

Walter's mouth hung open as his cheeks stung red. He was about to try and reverse the side effects whenever he looked down at the weapon in his hands, saw blueish green dust flutter out of the barrel and froze. Truth dust.... He forgot he accidentally mixed it in with the solution to help ignite the sinking feeling effect in order of making occupants believe it more easily. He hadn't thought it would actively make them tell the truth.

And so that meant that Lance...

Walter's face turned into hopeful realization and he stared at the ground for a moment before dropping the Kite Ray and taking another step forward. He fidgeted for a moment, taking in a deep breath as he readied himself for the not so scientific matter. "Lance... I... I love you too, but... Why haven't you told me before? I thought you... I thought you just wanted to be friends."

"Baby, I'd give anything to be more than just your friend, but I don't want you to get hurt running 'round with me so... Disregards, ya know?" Lance chuckled and then admitted rather shamelessly, "Dang, I'd give anything to kiss the heck outta' your cute little mouth."

" _Lance!_ " Walter's cheeks felt like they had been compressed to a waffle burner. His heart fluttered harshly. Apart of him wanted to think that this was wrong, but another part, stronger and bigger, wanted this so badly. It was like a fantasy come true. And it was. He almost couldn't believe it.

"You wanna... Kiss?" He ducked his head down and twiddled his thumbs nervously together, afraid of the outcome.

"Love to," Lance said and was suddenly just _there_ , right in front of him. Walter let out an embarrassing noise of split second panic before feeling gentle hands on his shoulders. He froze, staring at the spy's chest rather than his eyes, feeling terribly humiliated and nervously excited. He wasn't sure about this...

A hand brushed his collar bone, gentle and fond, and carefully slid up his neck, over his tender jawline. Walter shuddered, eyes closing as he hesitantly put his own trembling hands on the spy's thick, solid chest. A thumb traced his bottom lip softly before the hand cupped his cheek. Another hand slid around his waist and pulled him closer. Walter caved in, finally looking up into the spy's intense, desirable, loving eyes. He was _so_ handsome.

Walter's chin was tilted. He didn't hesitate this time. The taller frame began to lean down. Walter leant up to meet him, their lips so soft and so perfect coming together in smooth junction. A gasp and a pleased moan happened. Walter didn't know who it was from as he wrapped his shaking hands around the spy's strong neck, eyes closing as the floor and everything that was solid separated from their bodies, leaving nothing but the air and space to cage them together. Two hands cupped his waist in reassuring gesture.

And Walter was sure that if he was falling, at least he would have his soft landing there with him.


	2. Inflatable Hug Madness (Rated T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Walter and Lance get stranded on a private beach in an inflatable hug and it will take at least a few hours before anyone tackles their signal. They can't get out either and it's getting really hot. Like, really, really hot...  
> RATING: T
> 
> Notes: So when I saw the amount of kudos and comments I got, I nearly cried. I'm so happy that there are others who love these dorks as much as I do :') Gosh, I wish I didn't have to work or else I'd stay home and write these two all day, but I hope what I can publish everyone enjoys reading! I sure appreciate it!

"Walter, ju-just hang on," Lance's voice was quick and more panicked than usual as he leaned over on his burning hands and knees, eyes stinging from the rush of cool wind as he kept them locked on the scientist hanging from a flopping piece of unsturdy scrap metal from the malfunctioning plane.

It had been quite the skeptical mission. A plane full of goons needed to be stopped from bringing over their deadly weapons, and getting into the plane had been reasonably easy. However, getting out had it's own disadvantages. Someone had set up a rather misinterpreted "self destruct" bomb in the first class area of the plane, thinking that at least the important people could escape. They were wrong, much to everyone's misfortune. Not only was the bomb too small to blow up even the first half of the plane, but the bad people ruined their escape plan by angering the ever so smooth Lance Sterling who didn't mind making them go sleepy-night-night with Walter's helpfully engineered Dream Cloud formula. After they passed out snoring like pigs, Walter threw them an inflatable hug and pushed them out the mindlessly glitching plane, unaware that his backpack strap had caught on the broken door hinges.

Now Walter dangled in the rush of wind and sun from a faltering piece of scrap metal that was ever so slowly working itself out of the plane. Lance kneeled above him, close enough to take comfort and reassurance in his voice, but far enough they couldn't touch even finger tips. Being attached to it, Walter couldn't reach his backpack in order of grabbing anything helpful, and every passing second found him slipping more and more.

"Please don't leave, please don't leave, please don't leave," Walter chanted many of the same variables as he tried looking back at the spy, his eyes wide with fear.

Lance tapped his ear piece, "Come on Marcy, we really need this backup."

Static popped up from the intensity the plane fell, and Marcy's voice became a decoration of vocal messes. "Tr-trying... rling. Pla-nes... altitude... can't ca-atch."

Lance growled, gazing down at his panicking partner. He didn't have anything on hand except for the dream formula. Everything else had slipped out the plane or was in Walter's straining backpack. Guess he'd have to take matters into his own hands....

"Alright, Walty, can't go wings so gotta go hands," Lance scooted to the edge and reached down, carefully placing his hands on the rickety piece of scrap metal. It rocked. Walter slipped forward a few noticeable inches.

"Whoa! Please don't let me fall, Lance! Please!" Walter begged, struggling in the air, desperately trying to clutch at anything that would give him leverage, but without the recourses, plus his big, heavy backpack, he had little to anchor himself on.

Lance nearly flinched, "It's alright, Walter. Everything's gonna be alright. I just... gotta think like a pigeon; feathers."

"Yeah, but pigeons weigh precisely sixty-eight point five times less than the average human being. Their bodies are capable of descending at altitudes our biological structures would combust at because our chromosomes can't take it! And their geological field can-"

"Walter, would you please stop that!"

"I'm sorry, I can't help it! When I get nervous, science makes me feel better especially now that my norepinephrine and adrenalin levels are this high," Walter raised his hands out and covered his face, trying not to think about the fall and his nerves.

"Walter, everything is going to be alright, ok?" Lance's calm, collected voice spoke from behind him. Walter relaxed his tense shoulders and tried to look back at him, only able to catch a small glance at his worried yet reassuring eyes. "I've got this. You're gonna be fine, just keep your eyes on me, m'k?"

Despite being utterly terrified, Walter couldn't help but to feel a wave of relief course through his body, his trust for the spy great. Listening to his confident, sometimes arrogant voice made him feel better inside, even in the toughest of situations. He knew Lance had his back. He always did. Walter smiled weakly.

Lance nodded and went back to concentrating on the horribly misplaced bar of metal. He steadied himself, able to plant both his hands on the metal with a reasonable amount of pressure without sending it rocking forward. He took in a slow breath and moved one hand out, slowly walking forward. Lance was just an estimated three or four feet away in arms length. If he could just get a little closer...

The bar rattled. Walter slipped forward with a yelp, only the edge of his backpack catching harshly on the sharp end of the scrap metal bar. The plane was beginning to descend in unmaintained force.

"Walter!" Lance, from purely grown instinct, lunged forward and grabbed the back of the backpack.

"Lance!" Walter mindlessly reached back to try and grasp at the spy.

But it was too late.

The force in which Lance landed sent the poor bar of metal cascading out the plane's side. The two spies with it. They separated by the shock, fear, and pressure of it all. Walter yelled in surprise for a few seconds before grasping hold of the air resentance and gasping for breath. "Lance!" He shouted and tried looking around for the spy.

He was ten feet away, free falling in just the same, if not more professional manner than he himself. He was staring downward at the far away landing that would surely take their lives if they didn't do something fast.

"My jet packs!" Walter shouted in anticipation and scrambled to take the baggage off.

Lance looked at him in horror and tried reaching out for him, his voice muffled through the rush of air blowing past them. "Walter, no!" He tried warning him, "Don't do tha-"

"No wait, stop-" Due to the altitude effects and the tremendous fall, Walter lost control of the heavy backpack, accidentally sending it gliding away into its own direction, "No!"

"Walter!" Lance, in his multiple panics, looked back down and felt his eyes enlarge like a melting pond of ice. His heart stopped. He reached into his pocket and yanked out a tiny device, glancing back to the flailing frame beside him, "Get over here, now!"

"I-I can't!" Walter scrambled in his own panicked voice. He felt like getting sick. "My organs can't take much more of this! It's only a matter of time before we hit the ground, a-and by my estimation it's eleven-thousand-six-hundred meters with twelve point seven seconds gravity increasing-"

"Walter, I need you to focus!" Lance shouted above it all, "I need you to come to me, alright. Just come to me."

Walter, like he did while dangling from the metal bar, trusted Lance, and waved his arms out. It kind of felt like he was trying to swim, not that he ever could, but it was likewise. Embarrassing but accurate. He found himself getting close, glimpsing down at the approaching ground. It was close. He shook. Lance had his hand out stretched.

"That's it..." Lance encouraged, waving his finger, determination racking his overwhelmed heart, "That's it... Come on."

Walter was so close, gasping and shaking as he looked up and down between the ground and his most trusted friend.

" _Come on.._." Lance muttered seriously to himself, eyes fixated on the scientist. The ground was only a hundred meters away.

There eyes snapped together the same time their fingers brushed, and Lance reached out, grabbed Walter and yanked him to his chest, immediately hitting the device on his chest just six seconds before they hit the ground with a big, solid bounce. The world spun as they rolled and rolled around, toppling into and on top of one another. Both made funky, pained or surprised noises as they rolled inside the impenetrable yet cushiony surface.

When they finally slowed down, it was with a smooth scraping sound of sand against plastic and a few exhausted groans. They stayed that way for a moment, just allowing the rush, adrenalin and realization that they weren't going to be beach pancakes settle in. Their heads throbbed.

Walter was the first to come around, groaning as he lifted his head and tried to push himself up. He winced, feeling horribly nauseous as if he'd been thrown into the sea. Which he almost had been.... Taking in the relief, he blinked open his sluggish eyes and gazed down, blushing as the realization of his exact position settled in rather quickly.

He was on top of Lance. _Intertwined_ , more accurately. Lance's left leg was shoved between his own, and his arms were awkwardly wound around him. Walter's face had been smudged against his broad chest as one arm was around his neck and the other his back.

Walter _really_ blushed.

"O-oh, I'm sorry, Lance I... I didn't mean to, uh..." He stammered, looking away as he tried to sit up causing the inflatable hug to roll back slightly, causing Lance's leg to bump up more snugly between his thighs. He nearly cringed, biting his lip in embarrassment and... other reasons.

"Mm, you alright?" Lance asked groggily, just coming around to his full senses. Luckily he didn't seem to mind the position so much, or at least that's what he showed, as he slowly, carefully sat up, placing his hands on Walter's sides for comfort and balance.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay," Walter, still very embarrassed, nodded quickly, his cheeks still burning, "Are you?"

"Ah," Lance reached up with one hand and rubbed his head, cringing, "I think so... Quite a landing, huh?"

Walter couldn't cease the heat in his face. "Yeah, umm... I think we're on a beach," He inquired just to change the awkward subject and find a reason to look away.

Lance sat up a little more causing the inflatable hug to stumble. Walter had to lean into his chest more, Lance's leg still nudged in between his own slightly quivering thighs. There was no room to separate. It was too cramped. Walter realized with horror. Usually he designed several inflatable hugs for different numbers of people and different sizes. He could tell that this was Lance's. It was his size and his texture. It even smelt like him; rich and fine and...

Walter shook his head. They needed to get out. He couldn't be this close to the famous spy. Not like this. Not while they were trapped and stranded and literally squashed together in such close, _close_ proximity. He didn't think he could take it.

"A beach? I thought we were still headin' over the pacific?" Lance asked in a mockery of shock as he gazed at the abandoned, sandy shores around them.

"The Indian," Walter corrected and activated his wrist trinket, putting his focus on it, "It appears we're stranded on some private island."

"Looks more like a jungle to me," Lance mumbled as he traced his eyes around the thick layer of trees before them.

"That's because it _is_ a jungle. Ko Phi Phi Don, to be precise," Walter tapped his wrist trinket and began listing off the near traits of the place, "It says here that Phi Phi island is accessed by a steep track, and it's view point, Loh Dalum, is its most famous tourist destination, but I... don't think we're near that view point."

"Alright, so how do we get out of this?" Lance asked, bracing his hands on either side of the inflatable hug.

Walter waved his hand, "Pfft, easy." He looked around for the activation device, his face still a little warm as he searched. He thought that he might have to ask Lance to lift his behind, a terrifying thought, until he fortunately found the round device laying on his chest. However... "Oh no..."

"What? What's _'oh no'_ mean?" Lance asked in slight concern, looking at Walter rather than the device, "Are you alright?"

"Wha?" Walter began to ask, but then snapped back into reality, "Oh yeah, I'm fine, but the uh... Deactivation trope- it's broken. It must have shattered in the landing..." He clenched his teeth at the end.

"Ok, so... We're stuck here," Lance replied nonchalantly although Walter could hear the faint grudge in it, "That's cool, right? Just means we gotta wait awhile, yeah? No biggy. We've totally got this. I bet Marcy and them will be here so quick, we won't even notice."

"Yeah," Walter laughed, trying not to sound nervous as he gazed down, swallowing in uprising humiliation, "Is there any way we could, you know... Get readjusted?"

"What do you mean?" Lance squinted his eyes at the scientist, only then registering his complaint when he lowered his head, "Oh this- yeah, of course."

Lance sat up even more, moving his leg back. Thankful, Walter followed suit and tried to sit up as well. Their knees tangled awkwardly, and sitting criss-cross or side by side was only a dream. "I think..." Lance tilted his head, and Walter felt bad for his angle in the giant balloon, "I think you should probably sit in my lap."

Undeniably, his face turned dark red again. Walter couldn't think to protest, only agreeing as quickly as possible. "Oh yeah, that would work. That way our bodies won't be so tightly compressed!"

Twisting around was more difficult than it seemed, but he managed, and soon both men could sit in comfort. Or so they thought. Walter was sitting with his entire back pressed against the spy's thick, warm chest, his hips caged between his thighs. He blushed, feeling the heat throbbing like a over run burner inside his face. He was so a shamed. He hoped Lance didn't know...

To block his insecurities and shameful thoughts, Walter had started to go on about the science and history of the beach they were on. Lance, like always, listened with a smile, some times confused, and other times completely enraptured. He wondered if Walter knew how absolutely adorable he was.

After ten minutes of his innocent rambling, Walter breathed out dramatically, wiped his forehead and pulled at the collar of his shirt. "Whew... It's getting hot, huh Lance?" He smiled and glanced over his shoulder only to feel more heat returning to his cheeks once again.

Lance's fancy clothes were layered in sweat, the darker color of fabric implying it greatly. He had it running down his face as well, his brows arching in fake surprise. "You just now figuring that out," He stated bemusedly.

Walter tried to defend himself. "Well I didn't know it would take this long! Depending on the thermal unit heating transformation, I estimate that it is precisely eighty-nine degrees outside, and in the inflatable hug, ninety-two degrees. If it continues to get warmer outside, plus with the natural heat our bodies emit, we could reach a hundred degrees in just two hours!"

"Whoa, calm your tech there, Walter, we got this," Lance said in his handsome, reassuring voice, reaching up a hand to cup the scientist's shoulder comfortably.

Walter nearly sighed, his shame was so great. "This is all my fault," He mumbled, frustrated with himself for allowing all these perfectly avoidable mistakes to happen.

"Hey, look at me," Lance moved his hand up to cup Walter's chin, "Look at me. None of this is your fault, alright? Look, the bad guys are stopped and safe. We did our job. Marcy'll be here soon enough and this will all just be some silly reminder to remember that, next time it happens, you install air-conditioning, k?"

Walter smiled appreciatively, his cheeks warm against the warmer hand on his face. He almost leaned into it. He wanted to so badly. He could already imagine the motion, but denied it anyhow. He couldn't take risks. Not now. His heart twitched when Lance pulled away.

"So, any ideas how we could cool down in here, my little genius man?" Lance asked and tugged at his own shirt.

"Oh, umm, well," Walter tapped his chin and lifted his hands in scientific gesture, "Taking clothes off can result in an almost three degree difference. When we sweat, our glands are trying to evaporate heat. Wearing clothes only absorbs that evaporation and basically blocks out our ability to cool down."

As soon as he said it, he regretted it.

"Well in that case..." Lance began moving behind him, the inflatable hug tumbling to his motions. He unbuttoned his shirts and pulled them off.

Walter, cheeks as red as delighted strawberries, leaned forward to give the spy space and provide a reason to hide his growing terror. He didn't know if he could bear this. Being around Lance in the _car_ was hard enough because his urges to just reach out and touch him were so tempting, but here, trapped in an inflatable hug where the heat was slowly rising, was a bad thought.

Walter was about to stutter something else about body heat when suddenly he felt that warm, sweaty chest return over his back, hot breath ghosting over his ear as hands moved to reach over one side of him. Lance was taking off his shoes.

"You're going to take off your pants!" Walter bit his lip at how high pitched his voice sounded.

Lance seemed to be completely unphased. "Yeah, why wouldn't I? You said it yourself. If I can save some sweat, then I'm going all the way, and you should too, Walter. Don't tell me you're not gonna take any of them clothes off."

"Well, I... didn't plan on it," Walter admitted in a small, panicked voice.

He could _feel_ Lance's blistering eyes on his face. " _Walter..."_ He wasn't going to be giving up so easily.

Lance Sterling _never_ gave up. Period.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RATED M version coming very, very soon! Please leave a comment. I strive for positive feedback, helpful criticism, ideas and requests.


	3. Flying Solo Part One (Rated G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Walter took a shot for Lance after trying to warn him about the effects of the deadly weapon they were after, and has ended up in a coma. How will Lance live with himself especially since the damage Walters in is irreversible without the right actions?  
> RATING: GENERAL.  
> WARNINGS: major character injury. 
> 
> So yeah, I wanted some angsty, suspenseful stuff with these two. I have to say, writing Spies in Disguise is inspiring me to update one of my long ignored Smallfoot fics, and even a few others. I love being able to feel like a kid again :) And this is giving me the confidence.

It took less than thirty minutes to get Walter back to the safety of the facility. Researchers and other high tech scientists were already on the case trying to find a way to reverse the manta ray effects. The bad guy had been happily arrested and taken into custody, thousands of weapons returned safely. It would seem like a major win, except... it wasn't.

Lance sat on a cushioned chair that he had pulled up right after Walter had been set up on the medical berth. His knee bounced anxiously in a quick, steady pace as he pressed his thumbs to his lips nervously, eyes stinging at the sad, awful sight before him. Walter lay on his back, shirt off to expose the delicate skin of his chest in which was now decorated with bizarre medical devices. He had a breathing tube taped to his mouth and an IV stuck in his left wrist. His eyes still shaded darkly in whatever unstoppable sleep he was in. 

"Oh Walter," Lance mumbled in loss to himself, a shamed and flooded by guilt. His head hung low with dread but he refused to take his eyes off the uncontrollably snoozing scientist. "This is all my fault," He whispered.

And it was. Walter had tried to radio him that the weapon he was up against wasn't the brain incinerator that they had vigorously been searching for, but rather, it was the manta ray. A device that had the ability to give people strokes, comas and heart attacks. Lance hadn't a clue what it meant at the time for Walter had been blurting out all the science and dangers behind the strange weapon while the bad guy was losing patience. Decidedly, Lance told him that he could take it. Walter begged him not to encounter. Lance went for it anyways.

To his misfortune and stupidly misinterpreted calculations, Walter had come in from out of no where, pushed Lance to the side the same time the bad guy shot the gun thus falling victim to the manta ray. The only thing Lance could be thankful for was the fact that Walter was right and it hadn't been the brain incinerator or else Walter would be gone permanently.

And it already seemed like he was gone enough.

Lance watched the rise and fall of Walter's chest, his own heart clenching every time it twitched with the struggle of taking in air. Monitors beeped and beeped, some times alarmingly fast, and some times hauntingly slow. The room was stiffly quiet. Lance could feel the silence withering it's ways into his bones, making the cold seem so much more apparent than ever before. The tune of Walter's unsteady breathing and the beeping monitors was his most hated yet most comforting song.

Lance leaned forward and reached his hand out, fingers trembling lightly when he touched Walters. He frowned. Gently, in the most careful way possible, he scooped those cold, little lifeless fingers into his own warm ones and brought them up to his face. He pressed the back of Walter's hand to his cheek and kissed the knuckles, taking in a big breath at the rejection of reaction. Walter was so cold.

Lance found it pulling painfully at the strings in his heart. He closed his eyes and simply kept Walter's hand close, keeping it comfortably caged in the warmth and safety of his own. He had been wrong. He was sorry. It should have been him. He wanted to scream, wanted to whimper, wanted to kick and cry and complain, but wouldn't. Not right now. Not when Walter was poisoned in this forever sleep and had no way of understanding how truly upset his best friend felt.

Lance wondered, in a stabbed area of his conscience, if Walter would still consider them friends after this. After all, he had ignored his protests and went solo. And they were supposed to be trustful partners. Lance's heart jutted at the thought of what he would say, at how he would provide answers. It wasn't like that. He trusted Walter with every atom of his body. He'd give anything to prove that. He cared so much for the little, nerdy scientist. No... He more than just cared about him.

He loved him.

Lance, in his internal battle, sat there beside Walter's medical bed for long, cold, cruel hours, watching as doctors and scientists came in to check vitals and do other work at random. The only time he had let go of his hand was when they needed to take blood. And even though it only took less than two minutes, Lance found his chest compressed with the amount of stress that came from _days_ of waiting with nothing other to do than think about all the things that were wrong, the problems and misfortunes. His guilt. As soon as the doctors had left, Lance had went back to holding Walter's hand, gently swiping his thumb over the patch on his wrist where they took blood.

A glance over on down the bed confirmed a very tragic bag filling ever so slowly with dark yellow liquid. Lance sighed. He hadn't been in to watch the catheter, or liquid diet transfer. He knew Walter wouldn't respect that. But it still made him pulse in all the most painful ways to see it.

Several confirmations had been made to him for he asked a few times every single hour if they had made any new discoveries, but nothing came back as positive as he'd have hoped. The mad man who had the manta ray gun in possession wasn't talking, and the facility was having its own trouble trying to figure out how the weapon worked in order of reversing the side affects.

_"Let me go in there with him," Lance had said in a low, dangerous tone as he kept his expression emotionless yet the agony, hate and anger was still there in the most unnoticeable depths of his face, "I'm sure I could find a way to make him talk."_

_"No, Lance," Joyless had raised a warningful hand up at the spy, "The last thing we need is another casualty. Stand back and let_ us _handle this."_

_"Yeah Lance, we got this, aye?" Eyes gave him a thumbs up and a confident smile._

_Beside her, Ears raised his foot up and swung it through the air, "He won't even know what hit him. Me!"_

_"Yeah, 'because you're_ so tall, _Ears," Marcy pushed past them all and walked in front of the spy, placing a hand on his shoulder and tilting her head, "Lance, we got this, ok? Go to Walter. I'm sure that if there was any chance he could wake up, you'd be the first person he'd wanna see."_

_Lance noticeably sulked, his shoulders softly shrugging as he looked away and mumbled, "M'not so sure about that."_

_Marcy only offered him a comforting smile._

Lance had dearly hoped that Walter would wake up like Marcy had confidently spoke, but disappointment welled deep inside his stomach. Lance sat there and thought and thought, gently squeezing and rubbing Walter's fingers before eventually falling still in a light snooz, his head laying on the bed beside the scientist's side. 

Marcy was the one to wake him up. "Come on, Lance," She said softly after giving the spy a light shake on the shoulder, "It's time to go home."

Lance groaned, slowly lifting his head with a twitch and wincing at the ache in his back from the angle he had been resting in. Using his free hand, he rubbed his eyes, ridding them of the drowsiness before losing every sense of relaxation at the sight of the still asleep scientist.

"No," He mumbled, shaking his head, eyes closing, "I can't leave him... not again."

" _Lance_ ," Marcy began.

Lance cut her off with a soft but sharp, "Not again, Marcy. Walter needs me, and I'm not leavin' him alone."

Marcy was relentless though, not easy to budge. She crossed her arms and moved to the other side of the bed, bending down to grab a spare blanket from the shelf. "What he needs-" She huffed as she unfolded the blanket and carefully slung it over the snoozing man, glancing across the bed at the spy and saying honestly, "-Is rest, and his best friend to be just as rested so in case he does wake up, he'll be there not sleeping on his lap."

"And if he doesn't?" Lance looked away, frustrated as he cradled Walter's hand in both his own, "I can't pretend like what I did wasn't wrong, Marcy. I'm the one who got him into this mess, so now I'm the ones who's gotta pay."

"And would Walter really want that?" Marcy crossed her arms again, rolling her eyes at his stubbornness, "You can writhe in your grief after he wakes up. Right now, he needs you to be strong more than anything."

She walked to the door, glancing over her shoulder as she unfolded her arms and opened the door, saying gently, "I'll give you a few minutes."

Lance didn't watch her leave, but allowed her words to wash over his heart. Maybe she was right. He didn't want her to be. He wanted to be screamed at and beaten, to be struck by words of disrespect, anger and authority. He wanted to hear the fire in their voice, to see the pure spiking anger in their eyes. He deserved it. But alas, no one was even remotely scolding him in the least bit for his mistake, and maybe that was better- not for him- but for Walter.

Lance spared a few minutes looking at the scientist's unconscious face before finally standing up, stiffly. He made a couple optically cringed faces at the misuse his body had stressed through sitting in that chair and even popped his neck. Afterwards, he looked down at Walter and brought his hand back to his mouth and gently kissed his knuckles, lips lingering down the expanse of the back of his smooth hand.

He sat it down with infinite gentleness, grabbed the blanket and pulled it further on Walter's body, basically tucking him in. Lance leaned down, close to his face, pausing just at the section of his forehead. He closed his eyes, fists clenched around the bed bar before relaxing at the twinge in his heart. "Come back to me, baby," He whispered, shying away only to pause again...

But he left anyways, knowing that if he stayed a second longer, he wouldn't be able to leave. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have some QUESTIONS. For this chapter particularly, would anyone like me to continue? Am I doing alright with blending in realism and still keeping that childish like vibe going on? Does anyone have any advice of anything I could do better with this?


	4. Inflatable Hug Madness Part Two (Rated M)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two of Inflatable Hug Madness. You know what to expect <3  
> RATING: MATURE.  
> WARNINGS: Sexual content.
> 
> I hope I did good, please let me know! Depending on comments, there may or may not be a chapter three so I'll leave that up to the audience! This chapter/story was actually inspired by my Smallfoot story where, instead of stripping because of sweating in the heat, the character had to strip because of the cold. It was actually really funny to write, and I hope you all enjoyed this one!

Well. He had done it. Out of all the illogical, diabolical, confounded things in the entire universe, Lance Sterling had gone and done it. He had taken his clothes off.

Walter sat forward with his elbows resting on his knees and his face buried in his hands. It had been a struggle shifting around so that Lance could get his pants off, but once he did, Walter did his best to avoid contact. Sweat not just from natural heat but from his conflicting feelings as well began to take over his fully clothed body, and he found himself growing more and more humiliated by the second.

"Man, do I tell you what! I feel so much better now," Lance fanned himself as he slumped back against the inflatable hug's walls, his clothes tossed casually beside them. He had his legs spread a little bit further, trying to get as much air as possible on his dark skin. Not that he actually _wanted_ to avoid contact with the adorable, little scientist.

Lance lifted his head and looked out in front of him, noticing how Walter's fingers fidgeted together in his lap as he stayed quiet, planted in his own, personally cramped spot. The back of his shirt had become darker, wetter, a clear sign that he was extremely uncomfortable in the heat. Lance grew concerned immediately.

"Hey," Lance tried to make his voice sound as evenly professional as it usually did, but added a little bit more fondness to it, "You know it's not gonna get any cooler in here with those clothes on, right?" 

Lance's eyes squinted at the small, tiny flinch Walter had made before hesitantly gazing back at him, his cheeks a shade of red that made his last piece of clothing twitch in junction with something else. He had never witnessed Walter being quite this flustered before and idly wondered if he was the reason. Lance's eyes nearly widened as a blast of hope filled his chest and lower abdomen.

Walter smiled despite the strange, concerning stare the spy was giving him. "I know, I uh... just thought it might be better if one of us kept our clothes on, you know? Just in case anyone were to show up or if Marcy finds us..."

"So what if someone sees us a little naked?" Lance lifted his hands out like he was weighing the outcomes, "We're on a private island. Think about all the naked bodies this beach has seen, because- _ha_ \- if I can tell you one thing then it's a lot more than Marcy has."

"Lance, that-!" Walter wanted to say that that was mean and very inappropriate, but to his shame, it did make him smile a little bit. He caught the spy's eyes in which were currently looking out the inflatable hug and couldn't fight his urges to glance down, his hands turning to fists against his own knees. Although Lance still had underwear on, there was no denying the massive calculations that were screaming inside Walter's head as he analyzed the sizable bulge there.

Lance turned his head just in time to see Walter's eyes fluttering wildly up to meet his after seemingly just gazing at a particular place down yonder. Then the scientist was snapping himself back forward, one hand covering his reddened face while the other stayed in his lap. Lance smirked.

"Walter," Lance said in that high classed, warningful tone, his chest nearly touching the scientists, "Now don't make me take that shirt off myself."

The tone of his voice and the warning made a different kind of warmth flood a certain region of Walter's body that sunk the internal battle ships of lust and horror inside his head. He covered his face and shuddered, hoping to all his luck that Lance didn't notice. This was too much. He couldn't do it. Oh, how Walter's conflicted heart _ached_. He would give anything to engage in the moment, but he knew it was just another fantasy that wasn't meant to come true. And there were so many downsides to add that up. His fear of what Lance would think if he were to see him bare, and his obvious feelings were much more stronger than his will to cool down.

"I'll be alright, Lance," Walter said and allowed his hand to sag back into his lap, his frowning lips pursing at the endless scenery of palm trees before him, "My shirt is made out of linen- actually one of the best materials for purging heat in hot weather. Linen is made out of intense robust material from stalk flax plants and is up to fifteen times percent more cooler than cotton-"

"Don't go trying any of that getaway scientific nonsense with me, Walter, you and I both know the danger we're in right now," Lance put a hand on the younger man's shoulder, lowering his voice into a calm, soothing rumble, "We shouldn't risk wasting lives when there's no knife at our back."

 _'But you are the knife at my back.'_ Walter's mind whispered. He couldn't bear this pressure.

Lance magically seemed to notice for he gave a small chuckle and shrugged his shoulders. "What I think is the last thing you need to worry about, Walter," He squeezed his shoulder, his voice just as kind and as professionally pronounced as usual, hands gentle as they moved down the scientist's shoulders, "Now take this thing off before you pass out on me."

To his major disbelief, Walter lightly gasped when he felt what was undoubtedly Lance's strong yet gentle hands moving down his sides to find the ruffle of his shirt. Fingers brushed his waist as they hooked the band of his shirt, skimming over his delicate, sweaty skin as they moved upwards. Walter shuddered again, lifting his arms in defeat as his mind screamed at the realization that Lance Sterling was actively stripping him of his shirt. It was more than anything he thought could be possible. He could feel the heat between his thighs growing.

The partially wet shirt was slipped off easily, folded neatly and tossed to the side where Lance's clothes were. In all honesty, Walter did feel better. Air he didn't even know was real fanned his back allowing all his flooded cells to breath in content. His nipples bulged even though he was hot, a small chill racing down his spine when he felt sweaty, bare skin sliding against the lower of his back. Walter nearly whimpered, unable to speak.

Lance found this to be very interesting, and in many ways, extremely hopeful. His pride soared and his heart bounced. He leaned forward, purposely pushing his chest into the scientist's back, moving sideways in figurative gesture like a glance away. He tilted his head, leaning down so Walter could feel his hot breath gushing over his ear and neck.

"You gonna try to convince me that these pants are linen too?"

"Lance..." Walter whispered, his face twisted in repressed emotion as he felt the spy's amazingly accurate hands moving back down his waist, the final wave of heat pooling in his abdomen stating that he was unable to go any further. He shook his head, heart clenching in irrepressible doubt, "I-I can't."

And he couldn't. He'd never be able to live with himself if the one person he desired but knew held no feelings in return found out his secret.

Little did Walter know (or maybe he just underestimated his height) that Lance might actually feel the same.

Lance's eyes were half closed as he hushed the scientist, moved forward and pressed _everything_ against the smaller back in front of him, most exclusively, his hips. Walter's surprised gasp and the way he looked at him with those wide, lost, hopeful eyes would be one of his most treasured memories for eternity. He smiled down at him with simplicity, eyes hinting understanding and finally met desire as he moved his hands back down his waist, only stopping for permission.

"Lance," Walter said it again, this time with relieved muscles and an exhausted voice. He could feel Lance against him, the pressure against his lower back a pressure that made his very soul burn with joy and love. He almost couldn't believe it. His arms trembled as he lifted one hand to gently touch the spy's extraordinarily handsome face.

"That's it, baby," Lance murmured, slipping his fingers into the band of Walter's jeans with wordless permission by his lifted hips, and began to slide them down and forward. He stared into his eyes, taking in the beautiful oceanic color of them and wanting to get lost for hours and hours. He was so beautiful.

Walter made a weak noise when his pants were half ways off his legs, and he mindlessly went to drag them the rest of the way off, never once breaking eye contact. He struggled to get purchase with the inflatable hug giving them so little room, but eventually yielded into the final yank that got the distracting clothing off.

And then Lance pulled him into his lap for a long, solid kiss. Walter melted into it, his neck awkwardly bent back but he didn't care. A cascade of emotion devoured his body in wonderfully contrasting waves that felt as if butterflies had taken over his systems. He'd need to find a way to mimic these endorphins. It would make a great weapons resource against the crazy, heartless people they fought all the time. 

But that didn't matter right now, Walter noticed. In fact, nothing mattered. The mission, the island, the inflatable hug, the heat; all this madness had been blown away as if it had never been there to begin with, and Walter felt as if he were floating in a cloud of irresistible bliss.

Lance's thick, divine lips intersected with his own delicate ones, making the most erotic noise as he sucked his quivering, bottom lip. Walter moaned lowly, his body trembling greatly as he felt larger hands moving up and down his chest and sides, feeling out all the sensitive bits and pieces of him he had never shown to anyone else. And it felt _so_ easy to give it all away to this one man, a man he could only imagine this kind of affection from, and yet now it was happening.

The wave of intimacy that hit both men was overwhelming. Lance used his hands to hold Walter close, right to the overwhelmed pounding of his chest, taking in his bodily tremors and twitches, his natural scent and lavender fragrance. He separated with a smile, enjoying the sight of Walter's half mast eyes and dark red cheeks.

"Baby," Lance breathed, cupping Walter's head and rubbing his fingers over the damp hair, "You know how long I've been waitin' to do that?"

Walter smiled back, sad but more happy than anything. "Not nearly as long as I have," He admitted, shoulders wilting.

Lance's smile fell slightly, but he knew and Walter knew that scores had already been settled. He swooped him in for another deep, penetrating kiss, licking delectably over his lips and moaning at the taste inside. Walter moaned back, one hand reached up to press Lance's head more firmly into the kiss, creating a delicious friction that made both their arousals grow.

Lance, while having his scientist beautifully distracted, moved one hand down the bare, sweaty waist in front of him, soon slipping his hand into the entirely damp underwear. A harsh twitch and low moan happened as Walter shifted in surprise and then ecstasy as that skilled hand moved up and down his pressurized length, his sensitive skin contrasting greatly in pleasure that he had no choice but to try and twitch away from. He shuddered, wanting everything he could take in this dream like haze.

" _Lance_ ," Walter exhaled breathlessly, his claimed mouth coated in sweat and saliva as he stared and gaped in wordless awe at the spy. Lance's skilled hands, throbbing member and sexy eyes didn't help either as he stared at him in this way he couldn't explain even if he had the words to.

To make the experience more comfortable, Lance leaned down and kissed Walter's clavicle, whispering in ghostly breaths, "Turn around for me, baby."

Without hesitation, Walter obeyed, shakily sitting up and wobbling around on his knees. Lance moved his legs out straight, bending them just enough so that Walter could sit comfortably in his lap, his hand returning to his side and eagerly awaiting arousal. Walter pressed his face into the spy's thick, sweaty chest, hands holding onto his strong shoulders as he felt him beginning a firm, rhythmic motion on his length. He trembled, sighing shakily as he felt a reassuring hand moving up and down his back, kisses being peppered over the top of his head as a seductive voice whispered perfect, incomprehensible prahse into his ears. 

"That's it, baby, that's it. You're doing good, just keep focusing on me, alright?" Lance mumbled, his own hips aching to thrust into the motion of Walter's gently swaying ones, but he held back for the meantime. He did something clever with his thumb and made Walter arch up into him, releasing a shocked gasp that made him mumble worshiply, "Beautiful."

Walter clenched his teeth, breathing a harsh pant as tingles raced brightly up his spine. The hand on his length squeezed as it moved up and down, that thumb pressing just right on his tip smearing around escaping pre-cum. He held on tight to the spy, his thighs trembling as heat built up in them.

This probably wasn't the best idea; sharing such intimacy in a hot place where they were originally trying to avoid heating up anymore. But their hearts were in the goldmines now, and nothing was going to stop them from making the advances they had been waiting so long to make.

Walter moved back just enough to where he could gaze down into their laps, his cheeks iridescently red as he saw Lance working him with his hand. The spy's own impressive length sending a rush of desire and shyness through him. He had already known that Lance was big. The submarine incident gave that information happily. He just hadn't been able to imagine just _how_ big it actually was.

Walter, unaware that he had reached one of his hands down, paused and curled his fingers, looking apologetically up at the spy. "Lance, I..."

"Go 'head, baby," Lance smiled down at him, "Let me see what you got."

Inspired by his loving voice, Walter gazed back down and, with shaky hands, wrapped his palm around the spy's broad length. It barely fit in his fingers. He shuddered and shifted his hips forward, pressing his length against Lances and thrusting into him. Both of them jerking at the surprise of sensation that jolted them. Walter breathed in and out, letting the wave of pleasure pass through before doing it again.

Lance's hands tightened around his back, his face buried at the top of his head as he moaned lowly. "Mm, _yeah_... keep doing that, baby boy," He rolled his hips gently up to meet the thrusts of the scientists, "You're so good."

Walter's lips wobbled as his heart fluttered furiously, his hips jerking and thrusting forward, meeting the strokes and bumps of the spy. He leaned forward on his chest, pleasure streaking all throughout his body as he imagined what it would be like to actually have Lance inside him. The _stretch_ , the _ache_ , the fill of _everything_ that was Lance _inside_ him.

With a stiffness Walter didn't know his body was capable of, he tensed and cried out, length spilling up and against the spy's abdomen, painting their pelvic areas with his love. " _Ahh_ , Lance," He held onto the spy tightly, grinding through the tremors of pleasure that wofted hungrily through his body, " _Lance_."

" _Mm_ , I got ya, baby boy," Lance mumbled, stroking Walter's body in random, comforting areas, relishing the way his thighs tightened around his waist and how his warm seed smeared against his own close length. He reached down and squeezed his trembling butt cheek, eliciting a sharp moan. "Mm, beautiful, baby... Just beautiful."

" _Lance_..." Walter whispered tiredly as he began to relax, hips slowing down to a stop as the world and all its flashing colors began to escape his high eye lids. He breathed hard and slowly, dumping his breath into the spy's chest as he came down from the greatest orgasm he had ever experienced. 

When he tipped his head back, Lance was staring at him, impressed and with an understanding Walter used to only dream he'd ever see. He smiled lazily up at him, lips stained red from their shared kisses. Sweat had more than just layered their bodies. Everything was a mess. But it was the most beautiful mess they had ever created. 

And Walter would never deny it, especially when their lips came back together for a third time and many more times to come. 


	5. Fire with Rain (Rated T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Walter isn't so much rain as he is morning dew on grass, but Killian... Killian is definitely fire. Fire that has escaped prison with the help of hidden drones no one knew he possessed, and now he's on the hunt for the very person who put his fire out without actually getting him burned.  
> RATING: T  
> WARNINGS: violence warning. 
> 
> So in case no one noticed from my cringy dashboard, I love angst and bad guys, and Killian x Walter is a pairing that took my breath away from the moment I saw them on screen. Please notice from the lack of warnings, this angst is mutual. Killian DOES NOT hurt Walter, because what fun would that be? But Walter does get hurt so beware. This could be considered very graphic.

Like all mornings, things had started pretty subtle. Walter woke up with his hair messy and eyes crusty from a well deserved night's rest. He had woken up, fed Lovie, Jeff and Crazy Eyes and even cooked something up for himself, looking out the ballistic glass windows of his repaired house the agency had kindly fixed up for him after the home invasion incident. It was a beautiful day. Walter almost wouldn't expect anything of it, but thus as shadows liked to talk, so did bad news.

Walter was summoned into work far earlier than he had ever been before, his legs speeding as fast as his muscles could go. Usually Lance or Marcy had the usual habit of calling him up for important missions, but when a private message came in from Joyless, everyone knew that it was serious. With Lovie on his right shoulder, Jeff and Crazy Eyes following behind, Walter ran up the stairs to the facility. His blood running cold at the worrying lack of enthusiasm from the morning guards who usually always had something fun to say before he went inside.

They opened the doors for him with tense glances aimed at each other. Walter suspiciously wondered why as his heart throbbed in heavy anticipation. Had he done something wrong? He wondered, and tried to zone his brain for the possibilities. Besides giving Lance micron fever from the amebiasis extraction experiment, there was nothing he had done wrong that he could inquire.

Once he stepped into the facility, however, Walter knew that whatever had happened, it hadn't been him. Inside, the walls were decorated with what looked to be serious string, kitty glitter and even... were those... _bullet holes?_ A lump grew in his throat, his pupils shrinking. There was also water pooled everywhere along the floor followed by people dressed in white uniforms trying to squeegee it out along drains. To top it off, literally, there were a hand full of workers patching up a frightening yet small hole that had been made in the seemingly impenetrable glass above. Lights flickered on and off as if to emphasize the bizarre reality of it all.

"Quite a spectacle, huh?" Said a familiar voice that took a fair amount of tension off Walter's shoulders.

Walter twisted in circles till he saw his best friend, grabbed his own head and gaped like a fish, mouth opening and closing for a loss of words. Honestly, where would he ever begin? "Lance, wha-what- how- th-this... I...?"

"Follow me," Lance said calmly, gesturing his head in the direction Joyless' office was in.

Throat lump growing, Walter found the nerves to his shaking legs and put them in gear, quickly following after the famous spy. Something was definitely wrong. He dreaded in the intuitive acids of his stomach. Lance usually always displayed a certain amount of irritation, arrogance or hype before going on a mission. Right now, he seemed to be unnoticeably fretting; the straight fashion he walked in and the expressionless facade he wore told Walter that there was more going on than what met the eye.

They walked in silence no matter how desperately Walter wanted to ask questions. He figured he should wait until they were in the private confinements of Joyless' office. On their way, Walter was able to see down an open hallway he had never really needed to care or pay attention to in the past. It wasn't his department. He didn't even know what department it was. All he knew was that the hallway was _trashed_. Scratches and craters covered the walls, floors and even the ceiling. Lights hung down lifelessly, and blast marks seemed to follow the invisible pathway of whatever monster seemed to have come through.

Walter hadn't realized he had slowed down until someone cleared their throat. His eyes snapped back to Lance who was giving him a strict yet understanding stare. Bowing his head, Walter grabbed his backpack straps and adjusted them randomly as they began walking again, his eyes flicking back for one more glance.

And Walter didn't know why, but a sudden dreading feeling that could only be described as deja vu crept upon him, sending a harsh chill down his spine. The feeling pooled deep and heavily inside his stomach, staying there, sitting like a hungry wolf until dissipating into unforgettable nothingness. Walter simply tried to ignore it.

When they got to Joyless' office, Walter wasn't surprised to see that the whole team was there. Ears, Eyes and Marcy were all sitting at the table Joyless was currently leaning over, seemingly going over work strategy until they all took notice to the newcomers coming in through the doorway.

No one said anything for the first few seconds as all eyes focused in on the young scientist. Walter shuffled nervously in their stare, his feet bumping together as he awkwardly said, "Um... Hi guys."

Marcy stood up and glanced at the spy, "Did you tell him anything?"

Lance gave her an empty stare, "I was told not to, wasn't I?"

"Yeah, but I'm just surprised you actually listened," Marcy gave him a quizzical look, placing one hand on the scientist's shoulder and gently pushing him in the direction of the table, "Take a seat, Beckett. This might take a while."

"Why?" Walter asked innocently, fiddling with his thumbs as he took a seat stiffly in the chair, "What's going on?"

"Walter, now I despise having to say this to you, but its for your own good," Joyless' very stern, unhappy voice announced as she rubbed her forehead distressingly with her palm.

Walter suddenly feared that he had really screwed up.

The older woman straightened her posture and crossed her arms, staring firmly down at the scientist, "Since the escape of Killian (also known as Tristan Mcford), I authorize you to remain under witness protection until he has been found and recaptured."

"What?!" Walter nearly fell back in his seat, his eyes wider than they had been since he woke up. He scrambled up right to his feet, unable to keep still enough to sit as he gestured wildly to the doors, "Is that what all that destruction is about? _Tristan?_ B-but I thought- I didn't know he was here! Lance-!"

Walter whipped around to look at the spy, pulling at his hair in shock and startlment, "Did you know?"

"Yeah," Lance straightened his already perfect suit and glanced away to the side, saying lowly, "'Course I did."

As Walter gaped in awe, about to go down on his best friend for keeping secrets, Joyless spoke up.

"None of that matters right now," She waved the situation off and glared hard at the table, "Walter, your life is on the line. During the investigation of Killian's escape, we found blueprints in his cell. You _need_ to remain in the facility while we try to hunt him down."

"Wh-what?" Walter stuttered, "Why me?" He put his hand on his chest and felt a stab of indignity in his heart, "Why do I have to stay behind?" He thought it might be because they still considered him a kid. "If Tristan is on the run, I wanna help find him. I'm part of the team too. You all are in just as much danger as I am."

"Maybe you'd like to see for yourself why my recommendations stand accurate to this situation," Joyless grabbed the file she had been glaring at and slid it across the table, her voice hard and authoritative.

Walter paused, unsure for a moment until being outmatched by his curiosity and high suspicion. He grabbed the folder and drug his palm gently across it's smooth surface before opening up its thin, grey walls, revealing what made his eyes widen inside. Pictures of a tipped over bed and the scratched up concrete floor beneath showed the blueprints Joyless had mentioned earlier. It was a horribly accurate calculation of the whereabouts of the facility, Walter Becketts full name and his address number.

On his shoulder, Lovie reappeared and made a happy, chirping noise. Walter, face pale, slowly lowered the folder, his eyes unbelievably wide and fear struck.

He started to freak out. "I-I don't understand. Why was he _here?"_ Walter sat the file down, Lovie bouncing to the over-exaggerated tune of his shoulders as he moved about, "Tristan Mcford should have been sent somewhere happy! Denmark, Canada- even Hawaii are all places with significantly dense populations and yet have outstanding, peaceful scenery. With advanced security, Tristan could have found a way to renounce- he could have-"

"You're right," Joyless said.

Walter halted his scientific tantrum, lowering his hands in silent surprise that Joyless- no, _everyone_ \- had actually agreed with him that quickly. And they even looked guilty about it.

"And we take full responsibility of our mistakes." Joyless stepped forward, her face softening, "Right now you are a victim, Walter. We will listen to you, but only if you stay here under twenty-four hour witness protection."

Walter wilted, and Lovie rubbed her soft cheek against his in a comforting gesture. "But... Lance," He mumbled, unwilling to leave his best friend behind, I can't-"

"I got this," Lance's collected, reassuring voice announced behind him.

Walter turned to look at him, his face hung in torn emotion. "Lance..." He winced, his thumbs twiddling together as a sad, a shamed look crossed over his face, "I wanna help."

"And I want you to stay outta' robo-hand's death grip," Lance shot back.

"I don't wanna be the team's burden," Walter sliced his hand through the air. Lovie agreed with him with a pigeon purr. "If there's a way I can help bring Tristan to justice, and peace, then I-"

"Can't risk that," Lance shook his head, showing not even the tiniest gram of defeat, "Robo-hands on a vine to get you, and I'm not about to let him swing by."

"And you're not a burden, aye," Eyes said, giving Walter a fond smile.

"They're right, Walter," Marcy smiled softly, giving the scientist's shoulder a kind squeeze, "Finding Killian isn't so much the mission as keeping you safe is."

"We'll be back," Lance said, already heading towards the door.

Ears gave him a thumbs up, "And with a Killian served platter with us."

"Stay here," Marcy said in her gentle, caring voice, moving away to follow the others.

In the middle of the room, Walter watched them go, his shoulders slumping. "Fight fire with fire..." He mumbled sadly to himself, closing his eyes, "You all get burned."

* * *

Walter soon found that being under witness protection felt more like being under house arrest. They had locked him in the safest laboratory they had in stock, replicated to his own lab so that it felt a little more like home. Guards/spies stood outside at all times, identifying anyone who wanted to go in and company him. There had been a rather sensitive tracker put on his neck like a sticker, and it identified radical changes such as heat difference, movement and even sweat gland recognition.

But it was no match for Walter Beckett's intense skill set.

Walter, after three days of waiting, found out how to manipulate the frustrating contraption on his neck. He nonchalantly turned up the thermostat, pretending like he was a bit cold, told Lovie his apologies and thankfulness for her cooperation and carefully put the tracker under her wing where there was the least air resistance and most warmth. He had precisely ten seconds to do it, and succeeded with a happy dance of victory.

Getting outside had been relatively easy. He just asked one of the friendly guards to take his pigeon outside, flipped a potion on himself, and flew out, completely in disguise. Most people didn't know that he had mastered turning into a pigeon himself, not even Lance, but it was something he had secretly been saving for reasons like this. After following the guard outside, he happily flew away, off to find his friends.

Due to the lack of arms and equipment, Walter had to go empty handed. (Not something he was particularly fond of). But the others had all the equipment they needed. If he could just find them, he would be set.

After flying for about an hour, searching all over the city, he finally found them. Ears and Eyes were crouching behind a rectangular bush outside a rather skeptical warehouse, Ears appearing to be listening in on some conversation from within. Walter flapped his brownish yellow wings, tilting his head in curiosity until Eyes shot up and started pointed furiously at the warehouse. Whatever it was that had been discovered, it must have been bad for Ears dropped his headphones and started running with Eyes in the opposite direction.

With the area fairly unpopulated, Walter wasn't so much concerned about strays more than he was his friends. He quickly took off flying to the entrance of the warehouse, coming to a stop on the ground and looking in. It was dark, but Walter could see a vivid, dark red orb glowing brightly from the internals of the crate busted warehouse, blinking rhythmically. In the background, there was the alarming sound of people speaking quickly in a foreign language Walter could only guess. And from the sounds of things, someone had made a huge mistake.

Walter watched as several different people pranced out, shouting and arguing at each other as they tripped to try and get away. Even pigeons were flapping their wings in a rush to scamper. _Maybe_ , Walter thought, he should leave too.

No matter the curiosity, Walter went with his gut and flew away. To his luck, he was able to fly past the strange, bad guys, looking back as soon as the warehouse suddenly started to collapse. There was the smallest explosion. Nothing big enough to do any harm to the perimeters around it, but big enough to send an ear wrenching shockwave through the ground. Some of the bad guys ended up tumbling forwards, crashing against the grassy grounds and groaning.

Walter came to a stop beside one of the downed men, covering his beak with his wing at the sight of his unconscious body. "Oh my gosh-!" He gasped to himself and fanned the man with his wings, feeling it in his greatest instinct to help him, "Everythings going to be alright."

Walter stepped back and started hacking (a trick well adapted by Crazy Eyes), coughing up the antidote that would turn him human. It scattered on the ground, covered in saliva. Walter stuck his tongue out in disgust and wiped his beak. He really disliked doing that. He woddled forward, used one foot to steady the vile up right, and his beak to pop the lid off. It was a smooth process, one that he had practiced many times, and had perfected. Immediately he dipped his beak in, jerking back only when he felt a searing pain in his stomach.

It ony lasted for a minute, but Walter was soon standing bare and naked amongst the bushes. He gasped, covered himself down low and dropped down, anxiously trying to see if anyone had seen him. The warehouse was surrounded by patches of grassy terrains and old buildings, nothing super fancy, and seemed very deserted. From what he could tell, no one was around, so he slowly began to stand up.

To his confusion, smooth, sexy music began playing in the evening air, creating a lovely tune for the quiet breeze passing by. Walter looked to the sidewalk just thirty feet away and saw a man playing the saxophone with skill he'd envy any other day he wasn't standing naked behind a bush after an obvious warehouse bomb went off. And, _of course_ to his misfortune, the man had spotted him out of the corner of his eye, stopped and glanced at him. The only thing covering Walter's exposed regions was the bush, but a rather unsatisfying note splattered out the instrument and the innocent man tensed before trotting off as quickly as he could, completely and utterly oblivious.

Cheeks burning, Walter crouched back down and tried to think of what he should do. A groan happened. He looked down at the snoozing man beside him and the comfortable clothes he was wearing. Size seven.

Jackpot.

"Sorry, but," Walter loomed over the man and stared apologetically at him, reaching for his jacket, "This is official business."

Walter was able to dress up most of the way in the stranger's dark brown jeans and matching leather jacket. Out of kindness, he decided to let him keep his thermals, shirt and shoes, only taking what he needed to get by without getting in trouble or being absolutely humiliated. The team was near by. He could feel it. He just needed to find them.

"Ei você." Said a harsh voice just as soon as Walter was beginning to walk away.

He tensed and slowly turned around, lifting his hands in surrender. Four men wearing nearly the same uniform as the one he had saved stood before him, staring him down in suspicion. "Uh..." He smiled, glancing down at the unconscious body beside him and then waving innocently, "Cómo estás?"

"Ele matou nosso homem." The tall one in the middle said.

"Pegue ele." The other three began approaching.

"Uh... Buena?" Walter hadn't understood them, and he was sure by the unfriendly looks on their faces, he hadn't made acquaintances. He felt a freezing fire go off inside his body, and immediately tried turning around to flee until one of them caught the hood of his borrowed jacket and yanked him back.

"Ah-wait-wait, we can work something out! I'm sorry, I-" They punched him across the face. _Hard_.

Walter was flung to the ground, body scraping against the dry grass. His teeth ached, his cheek stung and his very brain felt as if it had been rattled inside his skull. Stars and colorful television static blurred his vision, and he groaned in agony.

Someone kicked him in the bare stomach.

Walter made a heaving noise and hunched into a fetal position, holding his stomach with one weak hand. Whatever internal organ they hit, it sure wasn't working now. He sputtered, feeling like he had fallen on his chest, knocking the air out his lungs.

Someone grabbed him by the hair. Walter hissed in pain, eyes watering. This time it was a slap that spun his brain and added to the burn on the same cheek he had been punched. He could feel a tooth was loose.

And then they began to choke him.

Left eye welded shut, Walter weakly tried to clutch the rough, powerful hands on his neck, legs weakly skidding out but unable to do anything. Whoever was choking him, he couldn't see them. It just looked like a bunch of dark blurs. His stomach lurched, and his lungs burned. He was beginning to feel light headed.

Lights were going out.

There was a blast. Walter fell back against the ground, whatever pressure that had been draining the life out of him free of his neck. He coughed, voice hoarse and head aching. He tried sitting up, arms weak but managing. He blinked but couldn't see. Blood was coming from somewhere. Whether it was his nose or mouth, he couldn't tell.

All he knew was that when he looked up, it was to an all too familiar figure walking past him. A tall man with a lean body wearing a fancy, dark black suit. That haunting red optic staring down at him in what would appear to be disinterest... But wasn't.

Walter breathed unevenly, everything seeming to burn as he tried to scoot away. From the background noise, he could hear voices yelling and grunting in pain. He didn't want to know what from. He just wanted to escape.

But wants didn't always happen.

A pair of expensive, black shoes fell before him. Walter collapsed against the ground in startled fear, his eyes stuck on the shoes before him. He stayed still, accepting that there was nothing he could do unless the team showed up. His eyes watered, pupils sliding up when the taller man crouched in front of him, a hand that wasn't made of metal coming towards his face. All Walter could do was try to lean away, but it was no use. He squinted his eye mostly shut, expecting pain at any moment.

But instead of hard punches, mean scratches or throttling, a smooth hand cupped his abused face, thumb swiping away the tear that had escaped. He sighed shakily, body trembling harshly.

"Now that," The heavily accented voice said calmly, and Walter found his chin being gently tilted upward to where he could see Killian's frightenly focused face zoomed upon him, "Was too easy."

Then he was being picked up. Walter groaned, unable to process anything other than a little fear as the world moved in slow motion.

"Stop!" He heard someone shout.

 _Lance_. Walter thought and blinked open his swollen eyes only to see dark black pants before him. Killian. He was slung over Killian's shoulder. Confused, Walter blinked but could not move, only able to allow Lance's alarmed shouts of protests to wash over him.

"I'm taking you with me," Killian's cold, emotionless voice spoke, and Walter wasn't sure what all happened after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no clue if anyone liked this chapter or not, but if you do, please let me know! I'm a sucker for rare pairs, especially when it's about a bad guy. And also... Killian is kind of thrilling, but what's he going to do with Walter, hmm? I'll let the audience decide if they want more!


	6. Up in Love (Rated G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Walter has constructed the next best weapon for the agency. Love bombs. A powdery substance that has the ability to make the person who is hit fall in love with the first person they see for a while. A great method for getting information and submission from bad guys. But... What happens when Lance gets hit by a love bomb? And what if the first person he sees is Walter?  
> RATED G
> 
> So I have good news and bad news. Good news is I updated and am still in love with this fandom. Bad news, Christmas break is over so school just started back up again and I have very little time to get stuff done especially with work clawing at my back as well. I'm very sorry. All I can say is that I'm going to try and update whenever I can.

Walter, with oversized rubber gloves on, poured a pinkish red power over the palm of his hands and wowed the scientifically magical substance. It was the third sample he had made, and surprisingly it had went well each time he tested it out on his happy subjects. Pigeons. Walter would never commit to biohazard, chemicals or anything artificial. He always stuck to natural resources that would have only minimal side effects and would wear off in a reasonable amount of time. His pigeons, happy and healthy, were perfect for this kind of test, and had responded admirably so far.

The clever scientist adjusted the small acrylic glass cage in front of him, making sure that the temperature was comfortable and that the hosts inside were not experiencing any distress. In one half of the glass box, there was a light brown pigeon with puffy feathers standing and chirping excitedly, while in the other half there was another bird minding its own business with quiet simplicity, gently pecking at crumbs from time to time, it's grey and black feathers slack and beautiful.

For a time they had been put together as a test without the pinkish red power, and their reactions were normal and sincere. They chirped at each other a few times but that was mostly it; just like any average set of street pigeons. Walter carefully lifted the lid to the excited pigeon's side and moved his thumb through the flour like consistency in his palm, taking in a deep breath as his eyes closed behind his goggles. This was the third experiment. If it was successful like the last two times, he would be able to conduct in human analysis.

"Ok," Walter breathed out and looked down at his computer watch contraption, tilting it to set the timer, "Beginning test three of the love spell powder in three... two... one... Boom!"

Like powered sugar, the soft substance softly fluttered down, raining on top of the oblivious pigeon. Walter grinned in anticipation and closed the lid to the cage, his chest growing tight as he prepared to jot down notes. The pigeon began to halt its wing dancing, coming to a slow stop and holding its head up in what appeared to be a state of shock. Walter guessed it was the filters of the pigeon's biochemistry taking effect as it opened and changed to fit in the new rush of endorphins.

After about thirty seconds, the pigeon shook its head and chirped, looking around in curiosity for a minute before it's large, blue eyes landed on the other pigeon just across from it. Then it seemed to go into another state of shock. Walter believed this was the part when the biochemicals attached themselves to the newly found image of a possible mating partner and rearranged the filters to release euphoria in order to make them instantly fall in love.

And it worked.

The pigeon released a happy, cheerful chirp and flapped it's wings excitedly. It waddled right up into the invisible wall separating it and the other pigeon, pacing back and forth while trying to find a way to get to it. With trembling gloved fingers of thrill, Walter removed the glass and allowed the love ridden pigeon to waltz in. And as he hoped, the non-infected pigeon peeped in confusion as the other one instantly started to rub up against it, chirping in over joy.

"It worked," Walter said, his eyes widening as his heart beckoned, "It works! Yes, yes! Do you know what this means, Lovie?"

At the call of her name, Lovie came flying up and smoothly landed on the scientist's shoulder, releasing a curious purr at his cheerfulness. "Now that I have proof for the agency, we can finally begin the analysis of human beings," Walter breathed in near disbelief, holding onto his forehead as he turned around. A glance at the snuggling pigeons making his smile broaden.

He couldn't say much else. His heart was too swollen in his throat to voice anything particular. This was an invention that he had been focusing on for nearly a year since he met Lance Sterling and became side by side co-workers and best friends. He might have made great changes for the world with his new, harmless weapons, but it just wasn't quite enough. He wanted to invent something _beautiful_ and serious that would save them all time, effort and stress. When his first test results on the love powder came back with positive feedback, he was nearly hysterical with excitement. He told the agency of his extraordinary news and, although a bit skeptical, they agreed to engage in human experimentation if his future results with the pigeons were all positive.

And they were.

The next day, Walter scrambled outside as fast as he could with Lovie sitting patiently on his shoulder, practically throwing himself into the fine comforts of Lance's impeccable car. "Hi Lance!" He panted as he adjusted himself in his seat, grabbing the seat belt and hoisting it over his body.

Lance gave him an awkwardly concerned look as he leaned partially over the steering wheel. His eyes were half mast with a certain arch of his brows, "You do know your face is screaming _'no sleep'_ right?" He asked like it was obvious. 

Walter didn't pay his statement any heed however. His adrenaline was too far focused on what he would finally get to do today. "Do you remember the love spell powder I told you about?" He asked, sitting up straight and looking over at the spy as the car began to smoothly take off.

"Actually, I can't remember a time when you _weren't_ talking about it," Lance remarked casually with a smile, "Why? What's going on? You finally get to test it out or something?"

Walter clenched his fists in bundled up excitement, his cheeks burning with the glow of it as he nodded. "Yes!" He squealed, his heart drumming, "Each of the pigeons had positive test results. Do you know what this means, Lance?"

"I'm gonna have to fall in love with Joyless?" Lance stated with an unamused look on his face, his eyes squinting in slight disapproval.

Walter smirked at him. "Yep," He smacked his lips together and then waved his hands, "But only temporarily. With the pigeons, the side effects lasted roughly thirty to forty minutes. With the major differentiation in humans, there may need to be some adjustments. Our biochemistry is so complex compared to other species, we often have trouble accommodating to the chemicals our brain produces such as dopamine, norepinephrine and euphoria. With your help, Lance, I can finally get the analysis I need in order of adjusting the formula to our biochemistry!"

"Something in my gut tells me I'm not gonna like this," Lance admitted with a chuckle. He had been Walter's test subject many times, and each time he found that it was an adventure no matter how bizarre or ridiculous it may be. He always loved to see the way Walter's face would light up in over-exaggeration at the results, how he would so happily jump and dance around, chanting to Lovie in excitement. And even if Lance was the mouse in the trap, he was always happy to see the one who caught his heart, win.

" _No_ ," Walter drew out and tilted his head at the spy, saying enthusiastically, "You're gonna _love_ it."

Lance could only laugh softly, his admiration for the clever scientist the swell of his heart.

* * *

"Walter, please explain to me why this is truly necessary?" Joyless had been palming her forehead in distress and irritation before looking up at the young scientist with her usual, small scowl.

Walter immediately set to work explaining himself while lifting up the paintball gun like contraption in his hands. "Because if we use love bombs, we can create a new diversion that's even more sufficient than the kitty glitter. When people fall in love at first sight, their biochemistry changes drastically to fit in the new, copious amounts of chemicals that their brain releases, and this could allow a whole new spectrum of emotions to open like trust, kindness and loyalty. If we shoot these at bad guys, they'll have no choice but to fall in love with whoever it is they see first giving us the perfect advantage of stopping the fight and bringing them in safely, no struggle necessary- boom! Oh yeah!"

Walter did a little dab and grinned to himself in impression. His heart was thumping wildly. He was so excited, and he eagerly anticipated his chance getting to try out the weapon on a real human.

"If I were you, I'd listen to the man," Lance rubbed his chin and gave Joyless a knowing smile, "It sounds like a weapon of genius to me."

Walter smiled fondly at the spy, his gentle, admiring eyes thankfully covered by his goggles. Lance was always sticking up for him and his weird inventions; a habit that made the strings of his heart ring at his charismatic gestures. He was so lucky. No one in the whole world could ever be graced with a better friend.

Joyless didn't look to be conquering the situation or information very well, if her over-exaggerated sigh was anything to go by, but she did succumb with a defeated look of frustrated surrender. "Despite the many aspects that this could go wrong, I trust you Walter Beckett," She looked to the scientist and nodded.

"Really?" Walter may have said it too quickly, his eyes wide, "You'll do it? Hah! Thank you, thank you _so much!_ I-I promise this'll be good, I promise."

Walter scooted back towards the door. They had already cleared the room of Marcy and her team on account of saving the two test subjects some dignity, but Walter needed to be ready to bolt behind the one way glass window before Lance got a chance to see him after he was shot. Walter tapped on his watch device and said lowly to himself, "Beginning love bomb human analysis in three... two... one... Boom!"

He shot the love bomb gun. 

"Ow-hey!" Lance jerked forward, having not been prepared for the sudden shot that landed right on his shoulder blade. He went to clutch it but was suddenly breathing in a rose scented cloud of pink powder that made his nose itch. He sneered in disapproval before feeling an unexpected wave hit him. And suddenly he was looking around frantically, anxious, almost like he had lost something important...

And then his eyes landed on Joyless.

Behind the glass wall, Walter was gaping in hope and astonishment, randomly typing down notes that described Lance's reactions. He seemed particularly confused, anxious and maybe even scared, but his halt at the sight of Joyless implicated the first sign of biochemical change. Walter shifted in eagerness.

Lance's face froze at the sight of the woman in front of him, his pupils widening to cover at least eighty-five percent of the expanse of his iris. He took a step forward, his expression nearly suggesting that he just witnessed some great, outstanding fonominal. He stared at Joyless with intensity, his arms hanging tight at his sides. One would think he had a stroke.

Joyless, still with a hard look on her face, shifted on her feet, trying not to appear nervous as she asked, "Lance? How do you feel?"

As if slapped, Lance jerked at the sound of her suddenly gorgeous voice, his knees buckling in weakness by the sight of her. "Like I love you," He said in awe, looking utterly stupid despite the fact he was uncontrollably falling in long socks for the older lady.

Joyless' eyes noticeably widened at his statement, but she washed away her shock by the remembrance of the exact information she was currently trying to obtain, and disgusted repellent was not going to get them anything. Crossing her arms, she straightened her posture and asked, "What are your thoughts at this very moment?"

"That I love you, that your voice is so beautiful I could listen to it all day long. You make happy. I'd do anything for you," Lance answered quickly and continued to spill and spill the information out.

Joyless had to keep back a cringe as the spy began to walk forward in her direction. "What is your biggest regret?" She asked to testify if the genetics of the love bomb stood true to its projection.

"Losing my first partner," Lance answered with a small wilt before shaking it away, "But I promise it won't happen again. I won't lose you. Nothing in this world will ever tear us apart."

Joyless' eyes seemed to enlarge in gesture to the heavily contained truth Lance had just spouted. She hadn't actually expected the ridiculous love method to work, but it was obviously having great effect. She un-crossed her arms to slowly place her hands on her hips, trying to think up a good question to ask.

"Can you tell me where project A-B, number eleven assassin is located?" She asked while thinking about the secret invention.

Lance nodded stupidly and waved his hands like the topic was boring, "Pfft, that's easy. It's in Washington government hands. Now how about we stop with the boring questions and get back to talking about how amazing you are?"

Behind the door, Walter was vibrant with exhilaration, his fingers typing ecstatically at the device on his wrist as he jotted down important notes. It was extraordinary, it was perfect, it was absolutely, breath takingly _cool!_

Until Lance was about to give Joyless a big hug.

"Don't-" Joyless lifted her hand out and said firmly, "Even think about it, Lance."

"But... I thought you loved me," Lance listened with a frown and stepped back, arms drooping.

Joyless didn't look particularly appeased by the statement. If anything, she was shortly shocked. Maybe even a bit confused. "This is a test, Lance," She stated and adjusted her glasses, "I don't love you."

" _Wha_...?" Lance looked as if he had just seen an adorable bunny get caught in the headlights. His body veered back in the smallest jerk and his eyes shrunk. He looked weak in the knees. "But I thought... Ah!"

Lance seemed to grunt in sudden pain, holding onto his chest and breathing sharply once. He heaved a little, his fingers gripping hard into the fine material of his shirt.

Walter came busting in, quickly finishing up his current notes before trotting up beside the pained spy. He scanned him with an exaggerated "Whoa" and widened his eyes at his scanner. "Your brain wave frequency is similar to that of physical pain resulting in over expressed amounts of cortisol to take over creating what we know as heart break."

Lance groaned, still clutching at his chest in what appeared to be pain. He gazed down at the ground, looking lost and unfound, _deserted_ on the inside.

That was until it just stopped.

Lance's hand loosened over his chest and his head tilted upward, his once sad eyes now confused and suspicious. "What... What's going on?" He blindly asked, wondering why Walter and Joyless were staring at him like they were.

"Whoa," Walter pulled his notes back out again, saying more to himself, "It appears that heart break is a key factor into causing a submission in the love bomb. If we play along with them, then people will continue to give us small pieces of information that we need. Isn't it great, Lance? We could finally find a way to make peace without actually having to threaten people!"

Lance was just giving him a weird look, his brows creased down in confusion. "I-I don't get what you just said," He peeked over at Joyless and asked randomly, "What happened?"

"Oh," Walter made a note that short term memory loss was a factor in play, and then said casually, "You fell in love with Joy."

"I _what?!_ "

"This is fantastic!" Walter threw his hands up and spun around in an overjoyed circle, gripping his forehead at the end and spouting, "I'm gonna have to borrow Flint's celebrationator." 

"Dude, you better be joking me right now," Lance pointed seriously at the ground. 

Walter smiled at him in a grimacing way, saying hesitantly but not in disappointment, "Nope."

* * *

After the next couple of weeks, love bombs had become the agency's greatest weapon. After Walter had figured out how to level out the amount of powder each paint ball like bomb held to what humans needed, and kinked out other loose problems, the solution had been perfect. Now any bad guy they came across could be shot with a small bruise left on the shoulder or neck, and be puzzled with love by whoever they first laid eyes on. Truths would be told, feelings would be shared and questions would be answered. No fight or mess. Bad guys went willingly into custody with their claimed love one happily escorting them. And once they were properly contained, the effects would wear off by a small sentence spoken by the person they "loved".

" _I don't love you._ "

Considering that heart break wasn't always fair, Walter allowed the loss of memory to be a key ingredient since then no one would be sad or depressed. Besides, maybe it was better they didn't live with the embarrassment especially since they had totally bombed themselves with the truth behind their scams. But.... There was _one_ error Walter had yet to experience the answers to.

Lance Sterling had fallen in love with him. And he wasn't falling out of love either. 

Walter cringed into his arms. It was an accident. Marcy hadn't been paying keen attention and Lance had been unfortunately in the way. Walter had been closest to the spy at the time, and immediately tried to take cover, but it was ineffective. Lance had spotted him, and to his shame, he had fallen in love. Or at least... Walter _thought_ he was in love. He couldn't figure it out to be honest. 

Lance wasn't acting like all the other victims of the love bomb. He wasn't spouting constant praise, making promises or wanting to give infinite attention to him. He was being... quiet and rather serious despite all other odds. He stared at Walter, derived with love, and he had already admitted it with what appeared to have been shame and maybe even embarrassment? Walter didn't know. The poor, younge scientist had already tried to use the heart break technique but it wasn't working. Other victims acted sad, yes, but it ended in an instant. Lance had literally seemed to go insane, his eyes had widened in horror and then dark realization. Depression. Walter only told him that he liked him because he was worried the famous spy might actually hurt himself from how bad he was being affected. 

"Aww, Lovie, what am I gonna do?" Walter groaned and turned his head over, glancing at the curious pigeon standing delightedly on the edge of the table. The bright eyed pigeon made a purring noise and shook her feathers, puffing up the ones around her neck and taking a step forward.

And for some reason, that one, single gesture made Walter's face turn in emotions of struck realization. He slowly lifted his head, staring down at Lovie and thinking, "What... what if the reason Lance can't come back is because... because he's really _in love?"_

Walter's cheeks darkened at the thought of Lance Sterling actually having feelings for him, but his heart throbbed with hope that there might be a chance to bring him back.

The question that remained... was _how_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a story called "Love Darts" and it's kind of like the rules to this story but just kind of less friendly and less appropriate.... But funny! So I got the inspiration to write this :D I hope everyone likes it! I let ya'll decide if you want a rated M chapter or not.


	7. The Sahara Wind-chimes (Rated G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team is out on a mission, Walter struggles to bring more weapons, and when he does, he is accidentally shot by something that changes his entire life, and the life of Tristan Mcford and Lance Sterling.  
> RATING: G  
> WARNINGS: Mild violence, age change.  
> PAIRING: Lance x Killian. 
> 
> What? Lance and Killian? Am I crazy? Yes. This is actually designed to be a fun, loving story with an emotionally happy ending and lots of tension between the growing relationship between Tristan and Lance. An AU basically, but I thought it'd be fun :D

The mission was- well... a _mess_ to say in small words. The team had expected a fight, that's for sure, but the whole outrageous mobster gang fight with the weird, tentacle powered suits had come completely out of nowhere. High powered gangs like this were common in these parts of the world, especially high ranking cities. It was just peoples exasperated ways of trying to get their names down in history, or even to at least make it on the morning news. And Lance Sterling would have no doubt that, with this crazy experience, their story would become world wide.

The man turned pigeon flew all across the alley they were currently holding the intense controversy in, and tried to find the main controller of the tentacles. From his height, he was able to estimate less than ten goons, five of them wearing the bizzare tentacle suits, and the other four seemingly trying to hide and watch. A fine strike point of data for the bird spy. He flew lower, watched as one of the lone men was hit by a blast of serious string causing him to shout unidentifiable curse words as he struggled and thrashed. Before him, just meters away, one of the tentacle suited men fell immobilized to the ground.

Jackpot.

Lance flew to Marcy's shoulder. "I got it; the ones in the shadows are controlling the suits. Knock em out, and we'll be going home safe," He explained, glaring at the brawn of clashing tentacles and drones before him.

Marcy accepted his confirmation and began to message Killian, speaking the new plan in quiet whispers so not to alert the mob of their findings. Across from her, the man controlling the drones flashed his eye from blue to red in agreement, and began to search out the rest of the hiding men while his drones fought the tentacles away. Behind him, Marcy attempted to help as well.

Unfortunately for her though, one of the long tentacles slapped her clean into the wall. "Ah!" She hollered and immediately went to clutch her shoulder, Lance flapping his wings fiercely above her. "We could _really_ use those backup weapons, Beckett," She warned in an irritated, impatient tone.

"Coming!" Walter's highly alerted voice pinged from the other end of the line, "The density of this building isn't something I'd like to consider plausible, Marcy, you guys really did a lot of damage!"

"Well maybe it wouldn't be that way if you had shown up sooner," Marcy grunted, regaining her bearings and picking up the hot-rod gun, trying to create steam in order of blocking out their online signatures.

There was a painfully noticeable silence of guilt and sorrow on the other line, and Walter found himself about to apologize before someone stood up. "Give the kid a break, lady, this wasn't his fault," Killian's deep, calm voice held a measurable amount of contained malice as he searched for the remaining bystanders.

Marcy scoffed, "Like you have any say, Killian, you have _drones_ on your side. All I have is a can of serious string and a steam gun. What good is that when you're trying to fight elusive tentacles?!"

"It's called precision," Killian smirked as he found one of the hiding men, "Maybe you'd like to give it a try."

"Oh!" Marcy shouted once in outrage while trying to cover the man made monster tentacles in serious string, "If you're so _precise_ , Terminator, why don't _you_ come over here and, by all means, show me how's it done?"

Killian's distant growl of disapproval at the offensive name could be heard as he knocked the man out with one zap to the side of the head. Behind him, the tentacles that were protesting Marcy's attack fell limp to the ground before her, splashing her with weird, organic oils. He glared.

"Guys, please stop fighting!" Walter mourned as he shuffled through a crack in the messed up battle field of crushed buildings, "I have the weapons!"

As soon as he stepped into the light with a smile of victory on his face, the men armed with tentacles all snapped their heads towards him and rose their defenses up immediately. "Ehh!" Walter's eyes widened and he grit his teeth, scrambling to turn around and run. The tentacles, however, did not let him.

As one of the tentacles slashed into the wall beside him, Walter yelped and twisted himself around only to be instantly flipped harshly onto his side from a trip of the slimy appendages. His weapons dropped and scattered all over the place, and he gasped as a particular one skimmed all the way to the other end of the alley.

"Finally," Marcy smiled evilly, picked up the new closest weapon to her, and fired kitty glitter up into the air.

Unable to resist, all the bad guys awed and stared happily up at the beautiful arrangement of sparkling colors and adorable kitten visualizations. This gave Lance plenty of time to find the last three standing men and pass the word onto Killian who then knocked them out with his taser. It was a major victory seeing all six bodies fall to the ground, three unconscious, and three uncomfortably smashed by the weight of their horrific suits.

But one man made monster still stood, and it was heading straight for Marcy who was uncontrollably staring at the kitty glitter. Killian looked down and saw a red, yellow and blue gun and bent down for it with no second thought. Walter had been staring at the glitter too until the sudden movement from across the alley snapped his conscious back forward. And what he saw made his entire body freeze.

Just as Killian lifted the gun in the bad guy's direction, Walter raised his hands as if he were trying to flag down a plain on a lost island. "Tristan wait- don't fire that!" He shouted and ran in the direction of the aim, "It's not a weapon! Don't fire- _no!"_

Whether his alarmed protests were ignored or unheard, the shot was still made and just happened to end up hitting Walter Beckett right in the chest. He yelped once in inconsiderate pain and fell back to the ground as purple, green and orange sparks cascaded his body. The man made monster turned in shock to gaze at his fallen form, this giving Marcy the perfect chance to knock him out with dream dust. With a crash, the last of the bad guys was defeated and the battle over. Except...

"Oh my..." Marcy's eyes could not have grown any wider as the sight of Walter's bunched up clothes moved with the motion of something small and feeble inside.

Lance was the first to land beside his friend's fallen form, gasping at the thought of mutilation. "Walter?" He lifted his wings out, breathing hard as he took a wobbly step forward, "Walter, can you hear me?"

Not too far away, Killian had dropped the gun he had shot his team member with and just stared in expressionless fear of what he had done. Anticipation fueled the fire of his viens as he desperately hoped he hadn't just made a human pie of his closest ally. He watched with blank eyes as the pigeon bent low and tried lifting the discarded shirt up.

"Walter?" Lance whispered.

"Ee-haha!" The pigeon jumped back in startlement, nearly knocked to his wings at the unexpected, high pitched sound of... an _infant?_

"No..." Lance pulled himself back to his feet and woddled forward, using his beak to slowly, carefully remove the shirt. And what he saw made his beak gape and his throat thicken with large series of yells.

There, sitting naked and chubby in the middle of overgrown clothes was a baby with slobbering lips, impossibly big blue eyes, and the curliest set of soft brown hair Lance had ever seen before. It was obvious who it was too. It made his stomach churn and flutter at the same time. The outcome only causing a bad headache of terror to form.

"A _baby?_ " Marcy asked in utter ignorance, her head tilted awkwardly and arms limp at her sides. She was about to reach her arms out to encompass the little cutie until vast footsteps betrayed the form of the mobster leader, and she turned quickly to pin point him, "Hold it right there!"

And of course, he started running.

Marcy rolled her eyes heavily and holstered a weapon, looking back at the other two adult team members and instructing firmly, "Stay here and try to reverse the side effects of whatever.... that is? I've got the runner."

As the woman took off at a full sprint for the bad guy, Lance turned his wide expression of disbelief to the taller man before him. "What..." It took a moment. The silence being overpowered only by the sound of snoring men, gloppy remnants of serious string, the crunch of glitter, and the undeniably soft sounds of baby gargles and tiny hands tapping innocently together. "Did you do?!"

"Isn't it obvious?" Killian shrugged his shoulders, but there was something off about the manner in which he stood, "He got in the way of my shot. That's not my fault."

"Yeah, it is! Just look at him, Killian, look- Walter is a _baby!"_ Lance's tone was sharp, filled with disbelief and panic, "He's- I-I can't even _look_ , he's-"

Lance turned around and woddled back and forth quickly, his feet becoming a tune against the ground in which had baby Walter seeming to giggle. He stretched his chubby, pale arms out and smiled toothlessy, wanting the pretty, soft bird to come forward. Lance spared him a gaze but growled, unable to look much due to many reasons.

"Dang... didn't he try to stop you, man?" Lance asked in aggravation, glaring past his beak up at the darkly willed man.

Killian, unlike Lance, couldn't stop looking at the helpless, little baby before him. "I don't know," And he didn't. He knew Walter was trying to tell someone to stop, but he hadn't realized the warnings had been meant for him.

"Great, just great," Lance stomped his feet and began to pace again, bowing his head and shaking it in frustration, "You know, you really need to put a micro-processor in that module of yours. Give yourself an extra set of ears while you're at it!"

Killian, ignoring the griping pigeon spy, kneeled down before the infant, and something off happened whenever it's attention was drawn and two bright, beautiful eyes landed upon him. Something in his chest zapped, but not in a bad way. Warmth rises up from his stomach, flutters and tingles raced down his body, all so rich with a feeling he couldn't quite explain. He lifted out a finger, mindlessly, completely unaware of his actions, and felt as those feelings intensified when smaller fingers tapped his a few times before wrapping around it and tugging. He gaped.

"Hey robo-hand, why don't you stop bonding with the baby, and go get me my bag over there," Lance smiled sickly, his voice laced with overwhelming sarcasm.

As if poked with an arrow, Killian pulled back and stared down at the pigeon, only then just registering his words. Without saying anything, he complied, got to his feet and walked in the direction of Walter's backpack. Lance watched him wearily from behind, huffing at his off behavior before gazing at the baby. It stared back at him with curious, blue eyes and a gaped mouth of wonder. "Hmp," Lance huffed and turned around, trying to define disgust in the situation, but every time he looked back, those eyes enamored him.

"Stop," Lance said and glared at the baby, but it only ended up cracking a smile. If he had teeth, he'd be grinding them together right now, "Just stop. Look-look away, now-just, _look away.._."

The baby giggled and Lance growled, throwing his wings back as he snarled at the sky. At the sight of human feet approaching, the pigeon flew the last few inches and quickly gestured for Killian to put the bag down. "I need you to get the vile," He instructed and pushed his wings at the nonplussed backpack. 

Killian's eyes flashed from the backpack, to the infant, and then back to the bag, his mind a little behind on reactions. It wasn't until Lance pecked the bag harshly in reminder that Killian finally reached out and unzipped the bag, revealing its crowded compartments. "No, no, the botton zipper, man, come on," Lance flapped his wings in aggression.

Killian flashed him a look of immediate death. "You know, for being something so insignificant, you really are thinning my patience," He said while smoothly unzipping the bottom zipper.

Lance seemed to have snorted, " _I'm_ thinning _your_ patience?" He watched, wings feisty in behavior as he waited for the vile to be brought out by the man's probing fingers, "Look in the mirror when you get a chance, robo-hand."

"You know, I could easily kill you if I wanted to right now," Killian grumbled in his deep accent as he patiently searched for the vile.

Lance huffed a laugh, "That's a pretty risky want at this moment, huh?"

Killian nearly growled as he pulled out the vile that said in neat writing "Lance's Human Potion", and tossed it at the offending pigeon who blinked once, twice, and then proceeded to give him a dumb, bemused stare. "What?" He scowled back. 

Lance lifted his fingerless feathers and dangled them, showing their pointlessness. "You don't get it?" He raised his eyebrows up in mockery of imbeciley, "Do I need to _spell it out for you-_ ack!" 

In a short shot, Killian swung his metal hand out, grabbed the ruthless pigeon by the neck while popping open the vile with his free one. Strongly resisting the urge to snap the disobedient offense in his hand, he forced the potion in Lance's mouth and down his throat, then dropped him unceremoniously to the hard ground.

"Oof!" Lance huffed but could not complain as slight pain racked his body, the transformation dulled in many ways. Walter even made it to where he had clothes on instead of being star cast naked each time. Thankfulness aside, it still hurt.

Once Lance was to his feet, he was about to start on his bucket list of opinions, complaints and arguments, but all his thoughts were stalled when he saw that the baby was no longer on the ground, but in Killian's arms. And Killian's fancy, dark black coat was off so that it could be encompassed around the fragile baby. His eye, usually always red, was a simple, light blue, focused down on the small child in his arms.

Lance had to admit, there was a certain bitter sweetness to the whole display, and it made his chest tingle in weird ways. He tried to flush out the feelings by turning away, but the urge to look was nagging like ticks on his back. Thankfully, Marcy wasn't a slow go-getter.

"I got the boss in custody. Joyless and her team are on their way for the rest," She implied while wiping her hands on her pants, stopping idly amongst the pair and cringing at how wrong the whole picture was. Walter, once a bright, intelligent, kind scientist, now a small, insignificant baby lying in Killian's arms with Lance standing stupidly aside and bodies decorating the exterior of their space. It would be romantic if it weren't so _wrong_. "As for Walter..."

She could only suck in a breath.

* * *

  
"You're going to have to watch him," Joyless announced with her arms crossed and lips thinned.

Beside her, Eyes happily held baby Walter while Lance and Killian stood to attention before them. Lance looked absolutely poleaxed, his arms stretched out and his mouth lay agape. Beside him, Killian appeared to be much more composed with a straight look on his face and his hands behind his back.

"Excuse me?" Lance smiled, hands leveled out to calm himself, "Watch him- as in- _babysit? Me_?"

"You and Killian are both being held responsible for Walter's misfortune, and as we look for the cure, our greatest alternative is your protection," Joyless stated in authority, "Once word gets out about his state, enemies will be on the look out, and we can't risk losing what we don't yet have back."

"Hold up a sec," Lance grinned and gestured to himself, "You think that this is _my_ fault?"

"You and Killian both are being held accountable, yes," The older lady seemed to be veining up in distress as she couldn't make the point more clear.

"Now that," Lance began with his sarcastic, smart mouthed, smooth talk, "Is stupid, l'right. I wasn't there, I had nothing to do with it. Robo-hands the one to pull the trigger and I was just on standby."

"And because of that, you are part of the reason why Walters suffering this state," Joyless snapped and pointed to the ground, "Up here we are a team which means sacrifice, vengeance and looking out for one another. I know you were beside Killian when he pulled the trigger. You _both_ should have known the consequences of your actions, and now, as honorable team members, you will work together to protect Walter until we find a way to resolve this problem that you've created."

Lance and Killian exchanged unhappy glances. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 coming soon hopefully! Did you all like this story?


	8. Team Serious Weird (Rated G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are still several uncontained M-9 Assassins that are beginning to attack the agencies many different facilities. They imagine it has something to do with their most dangerous prisoner Tristan McFord, but the only person he will talk to is Walter.  
> RATING: G  
> WARNINGS: None. 
> 
> I'm sorry it's been a while, but I'm coming back with some new content and new chapters for previous stories. I hope you like them.

Walter took refuge in his highly developed laboratory, scooting back and forth in his rolling chair to check on computers and equipment. He hummed softly in the peaceful serenity of the room, watching happily as Lovie flew around freely, enjoying the comforts of her new home. Lance had been the one to help set up his new office. Walter would never forget the widespread joy he had felt when the famous spy surprised him with all the gifted wonders that made most of his new home and lab. No more working outside of a filthy bathroom. From now on he was believed and entrusted as a highly sophisticated scientist and their most noble ally.

Yet despite being so treasured and looked up upon, Walter felt himself suffering a rather significant case of loneliness and abandonment recently. No hard feelings intended at all, he loved the fact that Lance and Marcy were getting along so well, but their missions had begun to grow more frequent and long and also... lacked him. Walter would continue to pretend that he didn't mind because Lance was his greatest friend and was free to choose whatever partners he wanted. The same fact applied to Marcy as well. And Walter would support them both to the very end.

He just hadn't suspected that their absence would effect him this greatly. Anymore Walter felt his chest aching with both home sickness and abandonment. He tried to revel above those feelings but they were there and not going away. His conscience griped all the time about how Lance probably just didn't want to be partners anymore while his heart begged to differ. His and Lance's relationship was the tightest knot in the facility. Nothing could break that. Except Marcy....

Groaning into his arms as he rested his head on a desk bedazzled with science supplies, Walter wondered what mission the group was on now. It had been so long since he had been out that he forgot to keep up with their status. Hardly ever did they stop by to talk either. Walter could tell Lovie was missing Jeff and Crazy Eyes, but Lance was insistent on keeping them at his side for pigeon combat. Not that Walter didn't mind, but he missed the family and the company. Sitting in a laboratory all day doing nothing other than conducting experiments and tests could get rather tiresome. He yearned to go out for a while, to be free and engage in the dangers and excitement that came from their heroic missions.

There was a quiet knock on the door.

Walter lifted his head and turned to gaze in its direction. "Come in," He said welcomingly, smiling in hope for the small possibility that it might be Lance.

"Hello?" Said the polite, soft voice of a woman wearing a white lab coat and checkered colored jeans.

Walter's smile deflated by the obvious fact that it wasn't his best friend, but his curiosity enlightened him with hope, "Oh, Misses Anderson, how are you doing today? Can I help you with anything?"

"I'm doing well, thank you Mr. Beckett," The woman nodded kindly, her short, curly hair dancing to the tune of her movements as she gestured to the outside of the lab, "I just came by to tell you that Mrs. Joyless would like to see you in her office immediately."

"Really?" Walter rolled his eyes around, wondering why the head of the facility wanted to speak with him, "Is it about Lance?"

"I'm not sure," The woman said and pressed her fingers together, "But she did say that it was urgent."

"Urgent?" Walter's eyes widened in a moment of consideration before he shot to his feet and began to scamper around to turn off running equipment, "I'll be there right away- thank you for telling me, it was nice seeing you Misses Anderson."

The woman chuckled at the young man's excitement and began to close the door, saying kindly, "Good luck, Mr. Beckett."

As Walter thoroughly checked over his equipment to make sure it was all properly shut down and organized to a minor extent, he gathered his pink backpack and called for Lovie to ride on his shoulder. After exiting his laboratory and locking it safely with a hand scanner, he took a moment to vent before sprinting off in the direction of head quarters, anticipation heavily flowing through his veins. Maybe now he was finally going to be given a mission. Maybe it would be with Lance. It definitely would be a brightening set of news.

After bypassing several people and fans who couldn't help but to stop the poor, hurrying scientist to say hi and pay respects, Walter finally found himself at the large doors leading to headquarters. They were already open so he peeked his head in and called out, "Joy?"

"Take a seat, Walter," The elder lady spoke just as firmly as ever as she stood in front of the large, empty meeting table, "And please shut the door while you're at it."

"What's going on? Is this about a mission?" Walter asked curiously as he closed the door and slipped off his backpack before plopping down at a random chair. He was a little bit disappointed to learn that the room lacked his friends' presence, but maybe this conversation would lean in their direction.

"I suppose you could say that," Joyless cocked her hip out and unfolded her arms to reveal a small remote that she used to power up the relatively large screen in front of them, "This is ArmorReign- your next objective sight."

"Isn't that the prison Tristan McFord was sent to?" Walter asked while gently transporting Lovie from his shoulder to the table in front of him. From there he gave her tender pats while intently listening to the elder woman.

"Yes, it is," Joyless smoothed a hand down the side of her grey sweater dress and cocked an eyebrow at the screen, "And this is a rank twelve facility that has been recently attacked by a set of rogue M-9 assassins."

"What?" Walter breathed in alarm when the screen drastically changed from one picture to another. The building shown on the screen was simple and small, just a mere weapons holster for their bigger, more important facilities. Yet it was all shot down and crumbled, debris scattered for miles as if a hurricane had danced across it, "But how? I-I shut down Tristan's arm, he shouldn't have been able to have any access to the drones- technically speaking that is."

"Although the assassins have yet to cause any fatal damage, we believe that a part of Killian's technological suit is still running without anyone particularly knowing," Joyless explained and swapped back to the prison, her hands coming to rest on the cool table after setting the remote down, "We've attempted integration but he refuses to speak to anyone... Besides you."

"Me?" Walter felt his body freeze in confusion and shock. Previously he had been ready to dump a whole science load of theories and explanations he thought could be accurate to their suspicions, but was cut short by the mention of being the only one Tristan was willing to talk to, "Why me?"

"At the moment we aren't quite sure, but to keep the spread of violence continuing, we want you to go up there and see if you can talk to him," Joyless announced.

The room fell into a meek silence for a few moments as Walter sat and took it all in. Wow. To think that he would finally be able to go on a mission with Lance only to be told that he was going to be interrogating an old enemy. Not that he didn't mind. He was more than intent going on his own mission to help the agency. He just hadn't expected it to be like this.

"We have your trip set up if you'd like to hear the details," Joyless said as if she already knew Walter was accepting the mission.

And Walter was.

* * *

It took less than a week to arrive at the prison Tristan McFord was being securely held at. Walter was in awe by the intense, snowy fortress and how guards stood outside thoroughly watching the perimeter. A large, stone pillar stood around the sturdy, concrete fortress. It was almost frightening at first glance, but seemed rather straightforward and bland. No doubt it held some of the countries worst criminals inside. Walter needed both a warrant and government permission just to go in.

His escorts were straight to the point and efficient as they guided him out of the helicopter and into the prison. Walter shivered as the freezing cold wind tickled his nose and eyes, gloved hands gripping his puffy jacket and bringing it up to his mouth to help generate heat. He wasn't necessarily a big fan of Alaska, but the ride had been surprisingly pleasant and held quite a few wonderful sights on the way. It was the first time he had actually gotten to see a real life moose. They were big and territorial and loved to crowd unoccupied roads, he realized in amusement. If only Lance were here to share these experiences with him.

Back at the facility, Joyless had declared that Walter would be going on this mission alone. No one would know of it and that went for their most trusted spy Lance Sterling. When Walter questioned her about it, she merely stated that this was top priority business and that simpler manners could be dealt with later. Lance was on his own mission and that was that. He didn't need to lose focus right now and neither did Walter.

The two guards that escorted Walter inside instructed him to take his jacket off and empty his pockets. Whilst being prepared for a search, Walter left a good percentage of his gadgets on the helicopter. The most he had to give up was his phone and a few tiny, useless tools that he hadn't been aware were left astray in his pockets. After a good feel up, he was dubbed unarmed and secure though he'd have to leave his belongings up front along with his jacket.

It was cold in the bright white prison. Hardly any of the heavy, steel doors were open, and what few of the wandering inmates Walter did see were strictly guarded and uninterested in anything revolving around them. He gulped at the sight of them, all chained up and quiet. The whole prison was drowning in an uncomfortable aura of thick silence, hatred and anticipation. Walter honestly felt kind of bad for the bitter inmates, his empathetic heart uncontrollably sympathizing by their part. Alaska might be an interesting place but it wasn’t the greatest location to help straighten out demented, depressed or mentally ill people. He'd have to talk to Joyless about building a prison somewhere simple and nice like Maine or Hawaii.

The two large guards led him half ways down a broad hallway before stopping and turning to look at him. "I believe you already know that your conversation will be recorded for government protection, correct?" One of them asked.

Walter nodded and said happily, "Yeah, I understand. I-I'm ready." And nervous. 

In fact, Walter was breaking out in an uncontrollable sweat. His limbs were stiff with disheveled nerves that he tried to shuffle and gently bounce away but with no success. He could feel his heart pounding like a confused, electric drum inside his heavy chest. Blood pressure probably higher than it should be, Walter stared at the large, steel door in front of him and tried to feign peace in a figurative part of his scientific imagination, but his thoughts were tattered by stress and irrepressible fear. 

This was a man who had mercilessly taken several innocent lives in pursuit of vengeance against a man who Walter considered to be his greatest friend. Not to mention the two times he had come extremely close to ruining Walter's own life himself. Of course Walter forgave him. Heck, he was the one who saved the man's life both in action and in the court of law. He gave Tristan McFord his second chance albeit in prison but at least he was alive and had the ability to learn and grow and move on as a better person. Yet despite all that he believed, Walter still found himself on edge having to speak to the dangerous man all by himself. 

Just why exactly did Tristan want to speak with him so privately? 

Once the guards opened up the steel door, Walter swallowed an intrusive lump in his throat, straightened his yellow and orange sweater/vest and walked forward. The innards of the cell were particularly grotesque and boring; grey stone walls, white ceramic floor and a steel bathroom set. At least it had a full sized cot neatly adorned with navy blue blankets and red pillows. A minor significance.

But the thing that caught Walter's attention the most was the man sitting in one of the hard, steel chairs in the middle of the room. Tristan sat in a neat, white jumpsuit, his real and metal arm handcuffed behind him. His head was tilted downward, the horrific scarred tissue surrounding his metal flesh uneasy on the eyes. There was a type of malicious intent glowing in his eyes even though one of them was technically engineered much like his arm.

"I was wondering when you'd show up," Tristan's voice was relentlessly smooth, collected and above all laced with a casual charm bleeding out from his Kyrgyzstan accent.

Walter winced and shuffled forward when the door slammed lightly shut behind him, accidentally surprising him. "H-hey there, Tristan," He said awkwardly, eyes turned downwards to the ground as he fought to find something smart or inviting to say, "H-hows it been here at AR? A-re they treating you well?"

"Cut to the chase, Walter," Tristan's lips twisted into a smirk as he leaned forward as much as the handcuffs allowed, "Take a seat. Go on. I bet you're dying to know why you of all people were sent here to visit me."

"Umm, they said that there were still drones underneath your command, but..." Walter hesitantly spoke what information he knew so far while trying his hardest to avoid that sharp, piercing gaze locked on him. He had meant to be manageably collected when it came down to this moment facing Tristan, but truthfully he was a spread out mess inside.

Fingers gently tracing the steel chair, Walter slowly sat down and placed his hands in his lap politely, feeling more awkward and pressured than a teenager meeting their significant other's parents for the first time. Being held captive under such an intense gaze caused goosebumps to bubble up on his body, and his skin began to lightly sweat. Walter wasn't the type to necessarily be afraid of bad guys. In fact he had tons of hope and optimism stacked up in his heart for them, but Tristan's particular reputation was devious and perplexing, and if the experiences they shared together weren't triggering enough, the unknown reason behind Tristan wanting to privately speak with him was even more unsettling.

"I disabled all the modifications concerning your highly advanced prosthetic arm. The only functions I allowed were the fluctuation protocols so that at least you could have minimal control over it," Walter twisted his hands around and mustered the courage to look up as his scientific module of a brain helped to boost his confidence, "Technically speaking, those drones should have absolutely no accountability for any sort of damage beyond the controls of the agency."

Tristan's smirk never vanished as he continued to stare Walter down like pages to a book of sin. "I admire your skill in tampering modifications," He lifted his shoulder in reference to his left arm, "However, you accidentally seemed to have missed one small detail."

There was something oddly climactic about Tristan's slow, deep voice. His good eye slanted in a manner of seduction while his expression spelled out praise of appreciation. After all, Walter was the one who cut the strings with the agency to let Tristan McFord both serve justice and keep his bodily modifications as long as they were tampered down to minimized self access. It was understandable that someone might be grateful for such a significant stretch of the neck, but Tristan's way of showing gratitude was more surreal, more dangerous.

And Walter had absolutely no clue why, but he found his cheeks dusting a light pink as he stuttered his eyelids and asked in a soft voice of curiosity, "What?"

"One thousand drones wasn't all I had created to take down the agency. There were others," Tristan sat back, his head lolling to the side lazily as he gazed up and around at his steel cage, his tantalizing expression disappearing as he spoke in disappointment, "I set them up so that if I were to be captured, they would come specifically to my aid for rescue... It appears they've finally begun their search."

The whole admittance conflicted and shocked Walter to great levels. His chest was beating furiously as his brows creased in suspicion and disbelief, "If that's true then... Why are you telling me?"

It didn't make any sense. If Tristan had been plotting a secret escape and possible attack this whole time, then why unleash such news to one of the most noble and trusted members of the agency? Surely he knew the consequences were dire. Did he not believe his sentiment would go unpunished or passed?

"It's a simple reason, really. You of all people should know," Tristan tilted his head back to the lost looking scientist, his mouth a thin line as he admitted, "I don't want you to get hurt."

Walter's eyes widened so much that the cool flow of air caused them to nearly water red. He blinked a few times, his chest throbbing with twisted, troublesome emotions. The shock was overwhelming. He hadn't expected any of this crazed news to unfold. His head tilted downward and his parted lips stuttered in a loss for speech.

"The only way to stop them is by accessing my bot protocols," Tristan furthermore explained, ignoring Walter's flustered state before him as he stated the more dicey matters, "You would have to let me out, Walter."

At the mention of such forbidden news, Walter gave Tristan a discrete, serious look, "Let you out?" If one thing wasn't crazy enough, it definitely led to other crazier things. "Do you have any idea how dense your chances of parole are? Just because you say that you can stop the assassins doesn't mean the agency is just going to magically trust you to-"

"They don't have to trust me," Tristan informed with a small smile, "They can trust you."

"Me..."

"I will give you complete access to all my protocols. Together, you and I can shut them down and leave it at that," He announced with a small nod, his voice rather relaxed though beaming with a thin layer of restrained anticipation. "A temporary partnership in pursuit of your better beneficiation." 

There were no other words to describe how Walter felt other than horribly overwhelmed. The whole conversation had left him in a starstruck daze of bewilderment. His mouth was dry with complementary things to say in return to the criminal who pledged undying loyalty and possibly even his life for the protection of his own. It could all be a lie, just a buttery, smooth hoax to get him into letting the criminal go. However, there were too many other aspects that made this all too genuine, too believable and calculatingly correct. 

Walter hadn't been prepared for the full extent of this experience, but there was one thing he did know. He missed his partner and he missed going on missions, and if this pursuit could result in better quality of Tristan's tense relationship with the agency, it might as well be worth a long shot. There were definitely many ropes to settle down and work around, but with some coaxing, they may actually be able to get this done.

As a team..... (Or something more.) 


End file.
